


The Bunker UST

by BlueBayou



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: More Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Summer of Olicity, UST, olicity - Freeform, the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBayou/pseuds/BlueBayou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pidanka told me that someone should tackle the UST in the bunker and all the sex that Oliver and Felicity will have there during the summer (... at least in our mind). So... here it is. There will probably a few chapters, gradually heating up ;)<br/>!!!COMPLETE!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shooting Range

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pidanka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pidanka/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter has no smut... just so you know ;)

“That’s it, Oliver.” Felicity banged her fist on the table, startling him. They were in the bunker, Felicity keeping an eye on police reports while he was making arrow heads.

“... that’s… what?” he asked, his eyes shifting.

“It’s the third night in a row where literally nothing happens apart from the usual robbery or stupid kids stealing a car and peeing their pants because big bad Green Arrow used his growly voice on them.”

“... and that is my fault?”

“No. Well, apart from the peeing pants part, ‘cause **that** is kinda your fault. But I’m bored and apparently there is no criminal mastermind we need to stop. Which leaves us with plenty of spare time” she groaned, dropping her head backwards and staring at the ceiling.

“Yes, which is why I am making arrows and you were doing… that thing you were doing.”

“It’s not enough. There’s no thrill, there’s no rush and it’s amazing because that means the world isn’t about to end or a major psycho isn’t going to send nukes our way but also... maybe now is the time.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes, licking his lips “the time for what exactly?”

Maybe she wanted to talk? About them? Maybe they would finally be able to talk about their break-up, about how the world had almost ended and -

“Really? Like really you want me to spell it out for you?” she grumbled, crossing her arms on her chest.

“I’m sorry but yes, you’re gonna have to because I’m not sure I’m following you.”

_Actually, I’m scared I might be getting the wrong idea._

She took a deep breath, standing up and walking to his station “You have to train me.”

“No” he answered right away, picking up his arrow. _No way. Never. Never ever ever ever._

“Oliver!” she whined “I’m bored and Dig taught me some great defensive moves but maybe I can learn some more. Also you’re gonna have to teach me how to use a gun. Don’t tell me I’m never going to need it when our super secret lair gets broken in every couple of months.”

He locked his jaw, glaring at her “You know some great moves already. I saw you with Cooper, and you knocked that ghost out. There’s nothing more I could really teach you.”

“What about the guns?”

“... I don’t want you near guns.”

“I might not have a choice and I’ll feel much better if I actually know how to use it rather than close my eyes and hope for the best.”

“It worked with that metahuman.”

“Because there literally was just one bad guy in front of me. What if there are innocent people?”

“Felicity… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

_And me touching you… is not a good idea either._

“Why?” she asked, taking the arrow from his hand and putting it back down on the table “give me one good reason why training me is a bad idea.”

_Because you look so damn hot in workout clothes._

_Because I’ve been desperately trying to forget what it feels like to touch your skin._

_Because imagining you in tight clothes, sweating and groaning, is already turning me on._

_Because I want you so fucking much._

_Because the idea of being rough with you is abhorrent to me._

But of course, none of those came out of his lips.

“Because you’re fragile” he eventually blurted out, realizing right away that she would have probably prefered the “hot in workout clothes” reason.

“... I am… fragile?” she stated calmly, her nostrils giving her temper away.

“I didn’t mean it exactly that way but… you always told me that you’re not exactly athletic and… and that you…” he trailed off, literally cowering a bit under her stare. He gulped, knowing that she would eventually win anyway “... but you’re right. Learning how to properly shoot a gun might be… a good idea.”

She straightened her shoulders, a small satisfied smile growing on her lips “glad to see we agree on that.”

“I didn’t exactly agree, more like caved in but… yeah” he mumbled, lowering his eyes when she narrowed hers threateningly.

He rubbed his forehead, standing up from his chair “... let’s go downstairs to the shooting range.”

_Why oh why did we add a shooting range…_

“Don’t hold it too firmly… your hands need to stay supple. You need to have a good grip on it but don’t squeeze too hard or you might make it shoot too fast.”

Oliver cursed himself at his choice of words, which was, quite honestly, worthy of one of the infamous Felicity Smoak innuendos.

He saw her lips twitching when she did as he told “You mean I have to hold it like I would hold a…?”

“... Felicity” he groaned, dropping his head on her shoulder. _I don’t need that kind of mental picture, Felicity. I really, really don’t._

He took two deep breaths and raised his head “alright. Now, widen your feet.”

“You used to say it differently…” she said teasingly, glancing at him as she spread her knees a bit more, gaining a steadier stance. He was right by her side as they were facing the first target.

_… Is she doing this on purpose??_

“Are my hands firm enough?” she asked innocently, wiggling her hips and brushing him in the process “I’m not holding it too tight, am I?”

_… She is totally doing this on purpose._

Their relationship had evolved in the last few months. At first being the only members left of Team Arrow had been slightly awkward, no one being there to buffer. But slowly, their banter had come back and they had started to spend more and more time together. Always under the pretense of the mission, but instead of meeting up after dinner, they would either go to Big Belly Burger together or have some take-out in the bunker. He had missed it so much, their easy talk, the teasing, the pleasure of just sharing a meal and talk about their day. But he didn’t know if they were there yet, he didn’t know if maybe there was a possibility that she might consider giving him another chance. So he had held back, giving her free reigns over their relationship - or what was left of it, actually.

“Oliver?”

“Yes. Yes, your hands are… fine” he quickly mumbled as he took a step back “OK, now you have to take a deep breath. Remember, it’s going to have much more of a recoil than the automatic gun you used. Keep your eyes open on the target and as soon as you’ve pulled the trigger, move your finger, don’t keep pressing on it.”

Felicity licked her lips as she listened to his last bits of advice and he saw the nervousness growing on her face. Her shoulders tensed as she took a few deep breaths.

“Relax. You can’t hurt anyone, I’ll be behind you to catch you” he quietly reassured her before adjusting their ear protections. She barely nodded but it was enough to make him understand she was ready. He took a step back but stayed right behind her, as promised. He knew the recoil would be strong, especially with her petite figure.

She exhaled deeply a couple of time before raising the gun and aiming and he saw her finger move over the trigger. She hesitated a few seconds, then eventually pulled it, only to stumble in his arms with the shock.

“Oh God” she yelped as he caught her against his chest, the loud noise echoing in the room. Her breathing was as ragged as she had run a marathon and he knew it was due to the adrenaline rush.

“I got you” he shouted, one arm circling her waist while he gently took the gun out of her grasp. She let it go without resistance and he put the safety back on before setting it down on the table next to them.

“You OK?” he asked softly as she gripped his forearm.

Felicity nodded but didn’t seem in any hurry to move. They stayed in the same position for a moment until she eventually cleared her throat “Well. That only proves I really need practice. See?”

She turned around, facing him and he could pin-point the exact moment she realized how close they were: her eyes darkened and dropped, for the smallest second, to his lips. Her breathing quickened as she stared in his eyes and he wished they could stay like that forever. It was the closest they had been in months and despite the distance, despite the break-up, it felt like yesterday. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and having her so close, in his arms, was the best thing in the world and also, in a way, the worst kind of torture… He took one last breath, letting her natural scent invade his senses, and he prepared himself, knowing she was about to pull away, knowing that this brief and fortuitous contact was more than he could have now.

Only… she didn’t. She didn’t pull away, she didn’t move. Her small hand reached out, almost curiously, and she stroked his jaw, caressing the rough stubble as if she was reaccustoming to it. He closed his eyes, leaning into her hand, savoring the touch of her skin, savoring the tingles it was awakening.

“Felicity” he murmured, her name rolling out of his lips, heavy with desire and longing, the sound mirroring the ache in his chest.

He could feel her fingers delicately grazing his chin, the mole on the corner of his lips until they slipped on his neck and, with a firm push, made him dip his head. His eyes shot open, just in time to see her closing her own before their lips finally met, reuniting after all those months. Her lips were soft, and warm, just like in his memories and he breathed her in, mentally begging her to let him in, to let him taste her, secretely terrified to take that step, terrified to be pushed away.

She pressed herself closer to him, her arms resting on his shoulders and he supported her weight, his arm still firmly circling her waist, his other hand innocently resting over her hip. Their lips moved together, in an old dance none of them had forgotten, until he couldn’t take it anymore and, with the tip of his tongue, teased her lower lip, begging for entrance.

Felicity suddenly paused and he cursed himself, cursed his impatience, as she leaned back away from him, efficiently ending the kiss.

Locking his jaw, he winced, letting both of his arms fall on his side, and he opened his eyes, meeting hers.

She was looking at him quietly, as if she was observing a particularly complicated problem, her eyebrows frowning in concentration. There was an intensity in her gaze, a questioning, too and for a second, for a small instant, he dared to hope. He dared to hope that maybe, just maybe they could go back to the way they were, that maybe she wasn’t able to move on either, that maybe he could get a second chance. He would do everything differently, because he had learned his lesson, and it was one he wasn’t bound to forget. Life without her didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel as fulfilling.

He gulped when she finally dropped her arms, their bodies now deprived of any kind of contact. They were standing barely a few inches apart, and with anybody else it would have been uncomfortable, but he had been so used to her, so used to have nothing between them that now just an inch felt like insurmountable distance.

“Felicity…” he whispered again, unsure of what he wanted to say exactly. Was it apologizing, was it begging? He didn’t have a clue but he couldn’t take that silence between them anymore. He had forced his body to accept the physical distance but there were things he knew he would never be able to deal with.

Felicity shook her head “Oliver… I… I don’t think this is…”

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

_I shouldn’t have touched you. I shouldn’t have kissed you back. I shouldn’t have hold you._

_I shouldn’t have lied. I should have put you first, I should have begged you for forgiveness, I should have come to you, I should have talked to you._

He took a shaky breath as he struggled to find the words, knowing they would never be enough. He finally settled for the truth, a truth he was hoping she was ready to accept “I miss you.”

She smiled at his words, a small, hesitant smile that reminded him of their first days together, when everything was still so new, when they were discovering each other.

“I miss you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hesitate to tell me what you think of it, I'd love to hear your thoughts, including for the next chapters ;)  
> It won't be a "real" multi-chapter fic, more like scenes between them until they cave in and go at it like rabbits (... and that should happen soon)
> 
> Find me on tumblr pimsiepim.tumblr.com or Twitter @Pimsiepim  
> Don't be shy, come say hi ;)


	2. Holding Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felicity's PoV... and still no smut.  
> But it's heating up...

****“Oomf” Felicity landed on the mat, the air brutally squeezed out of her lungs. She had been serious when she had told Oliver that she wanted more training. Even though she’d never hit the streets in leather, she wanted to be confident in her abilities to defend herself. And having learned a few tricks was good, but she needed to keep on practicing or Dig’s hard work would have been for nothing.

“... did you… did you just trip? By yourself?” Oliver’s incredulous voice reached her.

Groaning, she rolled her eyes as she kneeled up “... it happens, OK? That mat is… it did it on purpose!”

Oliver quickly walked to her and she almost groaned again when she saw he was wearing her favorite suit - the dark grey one. He had been held back at the office a little bit longer than expected and knowing that there wasn’t much she could do without him in the streets anyway, she had decided to change into sportswear and hit the mats.

Or let the mats hit her, to be more accurate.

He held out a hand for her, helping her on her feet and he sat down on a bench, shaking his head.

“What?” she asked defensively, taking a sip of water - not that she was already thirsty, seeing that she hadn’t even had the time to make it to the dummy.

“Why are you so hell bent on this all of a sudden?” Oliver asked softly “I know Dig trained you, gave you some tricks. So did Sara but… in all this time we were together, you never even… implied you wanted to learn more.”

“... Laurel died. You’re alone in the streets, now. I just… I feel useless.”

“Felicity, even being a super soldier couldn’t have saved Laurel. Had he wanted to kill us all, he would have succeeded, no matter how trained we were. And you’re not useless, you have never been. I am much safer with you in here than if I was alone and I know that. Actually… I’m pretty sure you know that too. There is something else, isn’t it?”

Licking her lips, she shifted on her feet, playing with the bottle in her hands.

“Felicity?” Oliver insisted.

“I want Dig to be proud of me” she eventually blurted out, finally meeting his eyes “when he comes back… I want to show him that he was a good teacher. I know it’s ridiculous because he’s… God-knows-where, in danger, in so much danger probably and I just don’t want to think of that. I want to focus on him coming back.”

Oliver stared at her for what felt like minutes before sighing deeply and standing up “wait here. I’m going to change.”

He was back a couple of minutes later, in his usual cargo pants and t-shirt, carrying several items. She felt a pinch in her heart, knowing that the t-shirt was just another reminder of what they used to be. Had this training session taken place six months earlier, he would have never even considered putting a shirt on.

“So… Dig taught you all the usual defensive moves, right? When you’re being attacked from the back, the front, with a weapon… things like that?”

“Yep” she nodded “but we never sparred with your… batons.”

“... Escrima sticks” Oliver corrected, huffing a laugh “and we’re not going to use those anyway.”

“But-”

“Felicity” Oliver cut her off, perking an eyebrow “I agreed to train you but I think it’s safer to start with as little accessories as possible. Not to mention, I’ve seen you clocking a few guys with random objects and you seem to do pretty well with... random sticks.”

She pinched her lips, knowing she didn’t exactly have a choice. And to be fair, she was actually relieved he didn’t make her slap water. She slipped on the small fighting gloves he handed her, recognizing Thea’s pair.

When she was done, Oliver was waiting for her in the middle of the room, his hands and forearms protected by big padded rectangles.

“We’re going to start with a few hits. Protect your thumb, use your whole body. Keep your feet wide. Start with the right hand, five hits. You’ve warmed up, right?”

“Yes, of course” she reassured him. She might still be considered as a beginner but she knew she needed to warm her muscles before any kind of workout.

She took a deep breath, her eyes fixed in the middle of the small cushion he was holding then threw her arm back, hitting it with all her strength.

Oliver didn’t even move an inch.

“Good. Again” he just nodded, completely unfazed by what she had thought to be quite a punch.

She repeated the motion four more times, like he had asked and… to very little effect.

“Could you… could you at least pretend?” she grumbled as she landed her last hit.

Oliver chuckled as he lowered his arms “you’re holding back. You use your whole body strength but when you’re about to hit me, you’re holding back. And I’m used to receiving hard punches, but that doesn’t mean that if you were hitting my face directly, it wouldn’t hurt like hell.”

“Left one, now?” Felicity asked, wiping her already sweaty forehead.

“Left one” Oliver nodded, raising his hands again. Felicity being right-handed, her left punches had even less power. He still encouraged her, nodding approvingly after each hit.

“Your form is good. The way you hold your body is good too. It reminds me of Sara, actually. It’s just that you don’t have the strength yet and… I can see you’re afraid of hurting me. You won’t. You don’t have to hold back.”

“I’m not!” she exclaimed, frustrated. She hadn’t expected to become a super ninja after two hits but she honestly couldn’t understand why Oliver thought she was holding back. She wasn’t, and to know that he thought she could do better while she probably couldn’t was slightly upsetting for some reason.

“Hey! You’re doing great. You’re not into warrior mode, but I don’t expect you to be. I’d be worried if you were, actually. Come on, two of each now, until I tell you to stop.”

They kept going until she was a sweaty mess, her cheeks probably a bright red. It felt good, in a way, to test her body’s limits and the echoing sound of the punches landing on the soft padded material had something weirdly soothing. It reminded her of the old lair, where the training mats were just a few feet away from her.

Her arms were shaking with the effort when Oliver finally told her to stop. He got rid of his protections then picked up one of her hands, helping her out of the glove, then doing the same with the other one. He gently massaged her palms, relaxing the muscles that were still tense.

Her breathing still short, she quietly observed him, the way his brows furrowed in concentration. His callous hands were so gentle with hers, like they had always been and she gulped when she saw that her palm was disappearing in his fist. She had missed this. She had missed everything. So much. The touch of his skin, the way she always felt so small compared to him, but in the best possible way. He had made her feel safe, and protected. She was so mesmerized by the sight of her small hand inside of his that she didn’t even notice he had stopped moving. How many times had he held her hand, whether it was a public display of affection or when… oh God. No. Thinking about sexy times wasn’t a good idea. Remembering how he often reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers just before his climax…

_No. No no no no._

But it had been so long. Since before the accident. Of course they had been intimate after as well, once she had healed from her surgery but… even though being close to him had been emotionally satisfying, even though she had desperately needed that intimacy to rebuild herself… she was still paralyzed from the waist down with little to no sensation at all.

And Oliver had always been so good at making her feel… well. Good. Very good. More than good, actually. Several times good, to be accurate.

“... OK? Felicity?”

She shook her head, her brain finally registering with his voice and she snapped her hand away “yeah… OK. yes. Sure I’m fine.”

Oliver looked at her questioningly “are you alright?”

“Yes. Peachy actually” she nodded vigorously “don’t you… aren’t you going to train too? I mean, since you took my gloves, I assume my session is over?”

“I think it was a good start. We’ll try with a punching bag tomorrow, it might be better for you. Now that I’m sure your form is good, you shouldn’t hurt yourself. And it will help you blow off some steam, you look tense.”

_… you spelled sexually frustrated wrong._

“I… was talking, not writing, Felicity” Oliver pinched his lips, having the decency to at least try not to smirk.

Her face fell, and if her cheeks were already probably a decent shade of red, the rest of her upper body followed suit.

“Oh God. I just… I’m sorry. I feel like we just went back in time when I was… me and you were… you” she mumbled miserably, squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment. _Damn it, damn it, damn it!_

She felt Oliver’s hand resting on her shoulder and she opened her eyes tentatively.

He grinned at her “Maybe take a small water break, then come back in five minutes, I’d like to work your legs.”

Her eyes grew the size of the saucers, her mind already invaded by very, very vivid, explicit… porn-y pictures of how exactly he could “work her legs”.

“I mean… in terms of kicking” Oliver chuckled “you have strong thighs, you could do some real damage, you know.”

He leaned in until he was close enough to whisper in her ear “By the way… I’m tense, too.”

She took a deep, shaky breath, letting his scent in, bathing in its familiarity, knowing she’d just have to move an inch and she would be able to brush her cheek against his. Turn her head a few degrees and she could find his lips.

They had shared a little, forbidden kiss a few days earlier and it had shaken her to realize that the flame was still there. He still made her weak at the knees. She still craved more, so much more, but wasn’t sure she was ready to emotionally give him another chance. Unfortunately, her body wasn’t exactly the understanding kind and didn’t seem to give a shit about her emotional state. Her body wanted to get laid, wanted one of those mind-blowing orgasms only he had been able to give her. It needed a good fuck. And if she was honest… so did she.

But not with anyone. With him. Oh, to feel his naked skin against her, feel him move inside of her, his ragged breath in her ear… she still wanted him. Desperately.

He was the only man she wanted and at the same time, the one man she was afraid to be with.

Truth be told, she could see he had already changed. She wouldn’t have been able to stay behind, as his partner, if she didn’t know, deep down that she could trust him, that he would rely on her in times of need. But she had been burnt so bad that she was mostly protecting herself.

His phone ringing brought her back to reality and Oliver stepped away from her, his own cheeks now bearing a light shade of pink, his pupils dilated as if he was just as affected as she was.

“I’m sorry, I have to... “ he whispered as he made his way to the small bench where he had left his jacket.

She nodded, licking her lips and, picking up her water, walked to the small staircase. She needed a bit of space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...?  
> Next chapter should be smutty :p (yeah let's not waste too much time before getting into the good stuff!)


	3. Why Don't We Do It On The Mat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys ;)  
> Here is chapter 3. NSFW, smut happens...

Felicity sat down on the chair at her station, hoping the familiar surroundings would help her get a hold of her own body.

OK, so maybe asking him to train her hadn’t been the best idea in the world. Maybe she should have thought about things like sweaty bodies, skin contact, Oliver licking his lips and smelling so damn good.

Or maybe, a sneaky little voice whispered in the back of her head, that was exactly what she had thought about.

She was so lost in her own little debate that she didn’t even hear Oliver coming back. It was a very, very familiar metallic sound that finally shook her out of it. She froze in her chair, her eyes bulging out of her head but she stubbornly kept them on her keyboard.

He wouldn’t dare.

He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t… no way. He…

The rhythmic sound confirmed that, indeed, he had dared.

The salmon ladder. The bastard was on the salmon ladder, the same ladder he had completely ignored ever since her accident.

_The son of a bitch._

She balled her hands into tight fists, trying to resist the impulse to just catch a small glimpse.

And completely failed after Oliver’s first grunt.

“Oh God” she moaned miserably. He was shirtless. On the salmon ladder. With his cargo pants that really showcased… a certain part of his anatomy. A part she had loved very, very much.

Despite the few months with less physical activity, he was still ripped, his bare torso making her mouth water. She knew exactly how it felt to trace his abs with her tongue, knew exactly the sounds he made when she slowly but surely approached his-

She stood up brutally, her hands shaking. She needed to leave. She needed to leave or she’d end up sucking him off while he’d still be hanging on that bloody ladder.

“I need a vibrator” she mumbled to herself as she slowly made her way back to the training area, her legs trembling. She should leave. She should just change and leave, go home, take a long bath and… take care of things herself. But there was something holding her back, the daredevil part of herself that didn’t want to take care of things herself. She kicked off her shoes, getting rid of her socks as well as she took small steps in the deserted room, knowing she should go change. The ice-cold floor underneath the soles of her feet at least helped her regain a bit of composure but it was probably too little, too late.

The thought was there, planted firmly. They were alone. They were adults. They were attracted to each other.

And she was very, very horny.

She was just walking towards the small dressing room near the bathroom when the sound of Oliver’s quiet steps bounced across the walls. She tensed, her back to him, her fists firmly against her sides until she finally gathered enough courage to face him. He was breathing deeply, his eyes fixed on hers, a hard, hungry look on his face that she knew mirrored her own. She could see a sheen of sweat covering his chest, every single scar tracing his perfect body.

She was already moving before her brain registered it and he walked to her as well, opening his arms. She almost crashed against his chest, her lips already searching his. If their last kiss had been soft and tentative, this one was hard and desperate. It was a battle of tongues and teeth, and she moaned in contentment when he suckled her lower lip. She pushed up on her toes, her fingers pulling at his hair and she noted absent-mindedly that it really was the perfect length. It was slightly damp, messy and it reminded her of all the times she had jumped him after his morning runs.

Her calves started to hurt from her precarious position and their lips parted when she shifted her feet. Oliver looked at her, a question in his eyes and she nodded, reassuring him. He lowered his hands just underneath her ass, lifting her until she could wrap her legs around him, her arms resting on his shoulders, her mouth already back on his.

A moan caught in her throat when she felt his arousal right against her, a bit too low but if he could just shift her a little bit it would rub just…

_Yes. Right there_.

She ground down on him, the layers of clothes diminishing the friction but it still felt so, so good. She was already wet, she knew it, already turned on by being so close to him, by the touch of his naked skin underneath her hands. There was such a deep, profound hunger taking over her body, one that was slowly but surely making her lose control and she was drinking his kiss, her tongue rediscovering his mouth, his taste.

He let go of her lips and she chased them again, but he tilted his head back, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Felicity… are you sure?” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse.

_Yes. No. I don’t know but God I want this. I want this so badly._

“I want you, Oliver” she eventually answered before nibbling on his lower lip, begging for entrance. He let her in as his hands tightened over her ass and suddenly he was walking. He dropped on his knees and guided her down until her back rested on the mat, their lips still locked. She pulled on his shoulders until he was resting his weight against her, her thighs squeezing his hips, rocking against him.

One of his hands stayed underneath her butt, pushing her up to meet his thrusting hips and she literally mewled when his hard length finally rubbed right over her clit.

“I’m not… I’m not going to…” Oliver groaned against her lips as she pressed down on the small of his back to encourage him.

_OK. To the main course, then._

She pushed on his torso and he knelt back while she raised her hips, sliding her thumbs in the waistband of her yoga pants and underwear. Oliver froze for a second then helped her, lowering the clothes over her butt.

Raising her legs, she held them straight while he slipped her pants down her thighs, cursing at the reluctant fabric clinging to her damp skin. He battled with the legs then eventually just freed one foot, leaving the rest in a messy bundle around an ankle. He spread her thighs, nestling his hips between them, his thumbs stroking the hyper-sensitive skin right at the apex.

Her hands were already reaching out for the button of his pants, opening his zipper, pushing the material over his hips and she giggled at the sigh of relief that escaped him when his erection was finally free.

“Feeling better?” she asked teasingly, her hand lazily stroking him, savoring how soft his skin was, how hard he was in her hand, the head a deep shade of red.

“You have no idea” he smiled and she was about to laugh when he wedged a finger between her outer lips, her chuckle instantly dying on her lips.

She moaned when he teased her entrance, then slid up, bumping against her clit. There was a pulsing need growing deep inside her core, and when he finally slowly pushed his long finger inside her, she arched her back, her hand automatically letting go of his cock. He was waking up nerve endings, slowly thrusting inside her, taking his time and God help her but it was going to drive her crazy. She needed more, she needed so much more.

“Oh fuck…” he groaned as he added a second finger “you’re so ready.”

His thumb slowly circled her clit and her breath caught in her throat at the flash of pleasure it sent in her lower belly. His thick fingers were creating a small friction and he opened them inside her, stretching her walls, preparing her for his girth. She bit on her lower lip, hard, trying to hold back her moans, but the pleasure was already there, just the feel of him touching her so intimately, his rough fingers claiming her, playing her body with an ease that betrayed the hours he had spent getting to know every single inch of her.

“Aaah” she groaned when he brushed against that spongy spot inside of her, the one that always drove her wild, the one that had made her love the doggy-style position… the one that had once made her scream so loud that Oliver had had to cover her mouth.

His eyes were glued to the movements of his fingers, and she licked her lips when she saw them glistening with her juices, the physical proof of her arousal. It hadn’t been that way the last times they had made love, her injury forcing them to use lube.

“Oliver” she whined, her hand taking a hold of his length “please.”

She wanted him. She wanted him so much, her walls literally clamping down on him, craving what he was about to give her. It had been too long, it had been way too long since she had felt him move inside her, since she had felt, really felt, the pressure of his first thrust.

Oliver followed her lead as she pulled on his arm, settling on top of her, his weight resting on his outstretched arms.

“Do it” he breathed, his eyes staring at her “push me inside.”

If she wasn’t already aroused beyond words, this would have probably done the trick. Whimpering, she guided the head of his cock to her entrance, rubbing it against her folds several times, using the most sensitive part of his body to pleasure herself, bumping it against the hard bundle of nerves.

“Oh… oh yes… oooooh” she moaned, remembering now how much she loved it when he did that.

“Felicity” he warned her and she saw his jaw locking as he winced, as if he was in pain. Except she knew he wasn’t, he was just as turned on as she was and probably already on the edge.

She nestled him against her opening and, with one hand pressing firmly on his ass, let him thrust inside.

Her eyes opened wide when she felt him sliding against her walls, the sensation slightly uncomfortable at first.

Oliver stopped mid-way, asking with a rough voice “you OK?”

She nodded, because even if it was a bit… snug, it still felt like heaven. Skin against skin, his body moving against her, inside her… there was nothing that could ever compare to that.

“Yeah… don’t stop” she whispered, her fingers digging into his hips.

“Lift your top” he ordered her softly and it suddenly dawned on her that, indeed, she was still wearing a small sports top. She pulled the fabric up, enough to uncover her breasts. Oliver didn’t waste any time, his head dipping until he could suckle on a hard nipple. At the same time, he thrust deeper, filling her to the hilt and she gasped with both sensations, his warm, wet mouth over her breast, and his hard, thick length taking possession of her. He didn’t move for a moment, until her body relaxed around him. He then released the hard little bud with a small pop, only to focus on its neighbour. She laced her fingers through his hair, pushing his head against the small mound, little whimpers escaping her throat as he ravished the soft flesh with his lips.

She rocked her hips then, her body craving something much more consistent. She needed him to move, she needed the completion it would bring her, the one that would make her see stars and probably scream his name.

Oliver raised his head, slowly pulling out of her, leaving only the tip, then pushed back in, almost as slowly as he had first entered her. She felt every inch of him pushing inside, almost forcing her body to accommodate to his girth, like he always had to at first.

She let her eyes travel down his chest, seeing the damp skin, the muscles rolling, the small trail of hair leading right where their bodies were joined and she arched her back, her knees resting higher against his sides, allowing him to slide in deeper. He grunted and she pressed the palms of her hands across his back, pushing him towards her until he rested his weight on his elbows, his torso firmly pressed against her chest.

He nestled his face in the crook of her neck, his lips peppering kisses as he slowly started to move inside her, his entire body tense with restrain. She knew he was holding back, she knew it was killing him… and it was killing her too. She didn’t need slow and tender love-making. She needed rough, passionate sex.

“Oliver…” she whispered in his ear, nibbling on his lobe “… fuck me.”

He froze in her arms for a second then bit down on her shoulder. Hard. She hissed, pulling on his hair as he started to pull out but then he slammed back in, so forcefully that she glided on the mat, her skin making a small squishy sound against the plastic material.

_Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes._

Oliver tilted his head back, enough to meet her eyes and she saw the raw desire in his, the primitive need to take her body and she shuddered, not out of fear but out of lust. One second later and his mouth was on hers and he swallowed her little moan of satisfaction as he started to gain a steady rhythm. She could feel the fabric of his pants, rough, against her bare thighs, the buttons digging into the flesh and providing a slight pinch of pain that only enhanced the pleasure he was already giving her. Oliver’s hand gripped her knee, pushing it up until it rested high on her side, opening her to him.

It allowed him to go much deeper and she bit his lip when his pelvic bone pressed against her clitoris.

He groaned, his fingers digging firmly into her thigh but he didn’t stop, his hips snapping, pushing her higher and higher on the mat.

There was a heat growing deep inside of her, a heat that he kept stroking with each thrust, making it wilder, the head of his cock rubbing against the right spots and she keened against his lips, feeling the pleasure building fast. This was going to be quick, all those months of celibacy making her extremely receptive, her body literally starving for an orgasm.

Her hands travelled down his spine, her nails scratching his skin and he shivered, violently, when she finally passed the waistband of his pants, grabbing his ass, pushing against it, spurring him on.

Oliver buried his face in her shoulder, pressing kisses, nibbling the skin, suckling on it so hard that she knew she was going to be covered in bruises but unable to care as she was entirely focused on the way he felt between her legs, the way he was pushing inside her almost desperately.

“Oh God” she moaned after a particularly hard thrust, her fingers tightening, her toes curling as she approached her release. Each push of his hips was bringing her closer, was making the heat burn stronger, almost painful in its intensity. She needed to come, she needed him to make her come.

“Yes… Oliver… yes” she winced, sensing her climax was getting closer, the wave she was riding taking her higher and higher, the tension in her core growing impossibly tight.

She could hear Oliver’s stifled groans in her ear, the way they would end on a moan whenever he would bottom out only peaking her arousal. He was losing control, panting her name desperately.

He suddenly reached out, grabbed her arm and pushed her hand over her head, linking their fingers. She mewled, recognizing the sign, knowing he was getting close to his own orgasm. Clinging to him, she squeezed her eyes, spreading her legs wider, already gasping for air, knowing her climax was just a few thrusts away.

“Please, please don’t stop, Oliver, don’t stop” she begged him when he lost all kind of rhythm, pushing furiously inside her “I’m right there, I’m right…”

She let out a long strangled moan when he slammed into her, her walls fluttering around him, ready to clamp down, if only he would just give her a good…

Her head snapped up, her mouth opening on a soundless cry as the tension in her core finally snapped. A long, muffled wail eventually spilled from her lips as the orgasm crashed through her, the white-hot pleasure spreading through her lower belly. For a few seconds, she was only able to focus on how incredibly good it felt, struggling to breathe properly, small strangled moans escaping her as Oliver hammered into her once last time, pushing in as deep as he could. She felt his release, felt the sudden rush of heat and she knew that it probably would have been enough to send her over the edge as well. Her walls were clenching on him, milking him, sucking him deep inside her warmth, squeezing him hard enough to let her feel every jostle of his cock as he poured himself inside her.

Oliver was breathing loudly against her neck and she rested her cheek against his hair while she tried to calm the beating of her heart. Her fingers were still digging into the flesh of his ass and she had to force them to relax and let go of him, her palm slowly caressing the small of his back. Eventually, her thighs sagged on the mat, and just the feel of him still pressed so intimately against her was enough to cause more little sparks of pleasure.

_"God I needed that"_ she thought, still completely dazed.

There was a deep, satisfying ache slowly replacing the fire in her core and she was drowsy, the pleasure having been so intense, so mind-blowingly good that it was leaving her without any kind of strength. She couldn’t even close her legs, her entire lower body completely numb from her climax.

She had just had amazing sex. With Oliver. Her ex-fiancé.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Oliver still on top of her, still holding her hand, while she stared at the ceiling with wide eyes, letting everything slowly sink in.

_… So that happened._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... ? ;)  
> Hope that was... satisfying XD
> 
> Find me on twitter @Pimsiepim or tumblr pimsiepim.tumblr.com  
> Don't be shy, come say hi ;)


	4. On The Table Or Against The Wall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> I thought I'd be able to update that chapter sooner but real life has been a bitch lately... anyway, you'll see that things take an interesting turn for these two and some truths are -finally- said (IMO).
> 
> Pidanka helped me, as always, to edit this chapter, so special thanks to her (that makes one bouchée. I'm going to count them :p)

This doesn’t change anything, Oliver.”

“I know.”

“We’re still broken up, we used to be engaged and now we’re partners. That’s all.”

“Yep.”

“I’m glad it’s clear between us.”

“Me too. Now, can you answer my question? On the table or against the wall?” Oliver breathed against her lips.

“Are you sure you…” she gasped when he pressed his hips between her opened legs “oh yes… that’s the spot.”

“Am I sure of what, Felicity?” Oliver murmured, his teeth pulling on her industrial piercing, making it very hard for her to focus on things like words and sentences.

“Felicity?”

“Yes… oh keep doing that,” she moaned, biting her lower lip “are you sure you can still do it against a wall? I mean now that you’re working full-time, you don’t have as much time to… oh God.”

She squeezed her eyes shut when Oliver nibbled on the lobe of her ear, his hand squeezing a butt cheek firmly while he rubbed his hard length against her folds. They were still completely dressed and she was extremely thankful that she had decided to wear a flowy skirt, leaving only her panties and his clothes between them.

“… to work out as much and…” she panted “and…”

_And I can’t exactly form a coherent sentence at the moment, Oliver._

Oliver raised his head, making her whimper in protest when his mouth left her ear, and glared at her “Felicity, I might not run around in leather as much as I used to, but I can still fuck you against that wall. So the question is: do you **want** me to fuck you against that wall?”

She nodded frantically because yes, oh yes she loved sex against the wall. There was something so raw in having the cold, hard stones digging in her back, Oliver’s warm chest pressed against her as they both chased their release… Not to mention she was already clearly in the mood and just didn’t want to move.

Oliver dipped his head, pressing his mouth against hers, and she opened her lips, eager to taste him. He had just gotten back from a dinner with the new police captain and she could still taste the red wine on his tongue. Pulling on his hair, hard, she tightened her legs around his hips and he growled in her mouth, a deep, primal sound that went straight to her core.

When he had walked inside the bunker, she had been prepared to tell him that what had happened the previous day on the mat wasn’t supposed to repeat itself but then she had seen him, all dressed in a formal suit with dark slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up… and the next thing she knew, she was pressed against a wall, his hand pulling her leg over his hip, his fingers tracing the hem of her panties.

And now, here she was, Oliver rocking his hips between her spread thighs while she was all but devouring his mouth. They eventually parted for air, both panting with need and she lost herself in his eyes, in the way the desire made them almost black. He was sporting traces of her lipstick, his cheeks red, his hair sticking in every direction and she couldn’t help but smirk, knowing she had been the one to do that. His hands were holding her firmly while he rubbed against her center and she keened loudly, the friction creating a coil of tension low in her belly. The damp lace of her panties was rough against her sensitive folds, and she could feel Oliver’s heat through their clothes. He was hard and hot against her, as ready as she was and suddenly she couldn’t wait one more second.

One hand left his hair, travelling down their bodies to unbuckle his belt, her eyes never leaving his. The metallic sound made her inner muscles spasm, her body reacting to the promise of pleasure that was hiding in his pants. She lowered his zipper and he gritted his teeth when she slipped her hand in his boxer briefs, caressing his erection, her thumb stroking the small slit until a little pearl of pleasure damped the pad of her finger.

Oliver’s breathing quickened, his forehead dropping until it rested against hers while he pushed his length inside her fist. She stroked the heavy shaft, her mouth watering at the idea that this glorious specimen was about to get inside her.

“Oliver… my panties” she murmured against his lips, her hand too busy to pull her underwear aside.

He shifted her in his arms, freeing a hand and all of a sudden there was a loud ripping sound echoing in the empty room. She blinked, a small burn digging into her flesh, where he had pulled on the lace to tear it off her body.

“Did…you… you ripped them?!” she yelped, just as he was positioning his cock at her entrance, already pushing in, invading her.

“I’ll buy you a new pair” he grumbled, his eyes closing as he filled her to the hilt.

_He ripped my panties… he ripped them._

_Oh my God… that’s so hot._

She pushed on the back of his head, forcing him to meet her lips and their tongues didn’t waste time, already battling for dominance just as he pulled out, pausing for the tiniest second before slamming back in. She suckled on his tongue as he quickly gained a steady pace, pushing her against the wall again and again, the force of his thrusts making it impossible for their lips to stay connected. She nibbled on his jaw, savoring the way his stubble was scratching her sensitive lips, the same way his pubic hair was brushing against her folds.

Small whimpers were spilling from her lips, breathy moans of pleasure as the pressure in her abdomen grew tighter and tighter, his hips pumping relentlessly. She saw a drop of sweat falling from his temple and she peeked her tongue out, licking the small pearl, savoring the salty taste of his skin. Oliver groaned, his mouth suddenly ravishing her neck in retaliation. Tilting her head back, she gasped loudly when his fingers digged almost painfully in her ass, her shoulders rubbing against the cold concrete of the wall. She couldn’t feel the discomfort, though, only the heat that was slowly but surely taking over her body, submissive to the way he was bringing her to completion.

“Come on Felicity…” Oliver grunted, his voice muffled against her skin. He was moving almost furiously now, his hips snapping, hard, his cock pushing her closer to the edge with each thrust.

“Yes… yes” she whined, her high-pitched moans resonating around them “I’m going… I’m going to…”

The heat in her core suddenly turned into a fire, and for a second it felt like she was soaring, her orgasm just within her reach, impossibly close… it only took two hard thrusts and suddenly a long wail was escaping her lips as the pleasure washed over her, the coil of tension releasing suddenly and leaving her gasping for air.

“Oh God… oh God, Oliver” she chanted, still floating, the waves of her climax spreading all the way down to her toes while he was seeking his own relief, his face buried in the crook of her neck, his breathing hot and humid against her throat. Still lost in her own pleasure, she could barely register the way his hips lost any kind of rhythm, but suddenly he stilled in her arms, thrusting so hard she slipped up the wall.

“Fuck… oh fuck” he moaned, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside her.

She must have passed out for a few minutes because when she opened her eyes, they were lying on the floor, Oliver on his back while she was sprawled all over his chest. He was still breathing heavily, his heart beating wildly underneath her ear and she couldn’t resist the temptation to press a soft kiss on his pec. Sighing deeply, he laced his fingers through her hair, and she let her eyes close. She should move, she knew that. She should get up and tell him - once more - that this couldn’t happen again, that it had been a mistake. But her body was refusing to cooperate, her face already snuggling in the crook of his arm.

Her body missed him. It missed his touch, his scent, his voice, his laugh. It missed the way his fingers stroked her skin, the way his lips felt against hers. It missed the comfort his arms always brought her. She knew, without a doubt, that they shared something special, a connection that she probably would never find with anybody else. But could she trust him again? Would she even be able to?

_… Would you be able to walk away from him? Turn your back on a future when you know how good it could be? Settle down for the second best?_

“Talk to me,” Oliver murmured quietly, his fingers lazily stroking the lobe of her ear.

_I love you. I still love you._

But that’s not what spilled from her lips. What she answered him took her by surprise, because it came from a small corner of her mind, something she hadn’t even been conscious of.

“You never even apologized,” she stated calmly, her eyes fixed on the wall where they had just made… no. Where they had just fucked. Making love was when you were a couple. They were not a couple, not anymore.

Oliver’s hand froze in her hair but she didn’t give him time to answer. She didn’t want to have that conversation right now, not when half of her panties were hanging limply from her hips, her body still bearing the traces of their pleasure. Not when she was so vulnerable.

Standing up, she pushed back the hand he reached out to hold her back “Forget it, Oliver. I don’t even know why I said that, to be honest.”

She almost run to the small bathroom and locked the door behind her. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to calm down and keep the tears at bay. What a gigantic mess. What a fiasco. What they had together, what they had built for three years… everything had been destroyed by one little promise made to another woman. And despite what Samantha had told her, despite understanding why he would choose his flesh and blood… because she understood. Having grown without a father, she even thought Oliver had made the right decision to cave in and do whatever he had to in order to be in his son’s life and try to make things as easy as possible with Samantha. But the fact was that she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to trust him again. To not doubt him whenever he would seem a bit distant.

Truth be told, if only he had talked to her after William had been rescued from Darhk, if only he had asked her for her opinion, for her support… things might have taken another turn. She had waited until William was safe and sound so they could talk about everything, sort things through together. As the team they had always been. But Oliver had completely shut her out of his decision, not even considering asking for her opinion… while listening to Mari and John. That had been the last blow. When she had heard his message, heard that he had taken that decision… she had known without a doubt that they wouldn’t be able to fix that. There was no way they could get married when Oliver didn’t seem to want to involve her into such life-changing decisions.

_Why didn’t you ask me, Oliver? Why didn’t you tell me there was something you had to keep from me but that you were working on it? Why did you even want us to get married with such a huge secret hanging between us? How could you even consider it? What were you going to do, tell me after the wedding “oh, btw hon’, you’re technically a step-mother. Do you want bacon or sausage with your eggs?”_

So many questions she still didn’t really have an answer for.

“Enough with the pity party,” Felicity grumbled, walking to the sink. She quickly took care of herself, fixed her ponytail and when she walked back to the main room, she was surprised to see Oliver leaning against the table, his hands in his pants pockets. She had assumed he would change into his Green Arrow suit to go hit the streets seeing it was already way past 10PM.

“I’m sorry.” He raised his head, meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry for not telling you about William.”

“I… I understand why you didn’t. Samantha explained,” Felicity replied as she sat down on her chair “I understand you wouldn’t want to create any more tension with the mother of your child, Oliver. You wanted to keep your word to her, I can respect that even if it hurts. But once Thea found out… once Malcolm Evil Merlyn found out… how could you still lie to me?”

“I… I didn’t tell anyone, they found out by themselves and…”

“Let’s not play on words, Oliver,” she cut him off, his explanation inexplicably making her blood boil “you were aware of the fact that Malcolm “I-Was-Ready-To-Let-My-Daughter-Die-To-Keep-My-Precious-League” Merlyn knew about William and you still didn’t think that maybe this was reason enough to let me in the loop? Thea was able to find out about William’s existence by digging into your mother’s past… and let’s not mention the fact that she actually started to dig in order to make sure no big secret could be unveiled because that makes things even more ridiculous, and it didn’t even cross your mind that I, the person who has been hiding your identity and concealing proofs of your alter-ego for three freaking years, could do something to hide those traces and protect your son?!” She hadn’t even realized she had stood up, or that her voice was now echoing loudly across the bunker. There was a fire running through her veins, a very different type of fire than the one that had taken over less than thirty minutes ago and it felt good, it felt so good to let it run free. She was mad. She was pissed as hell. It wasn’t just one bad decision that Oliver had made. It was bad decision over bad decision over bad decision, where he had purposely left her out of the equation. As if she didn’t matter, or wouldn’t have been able to help in some way. As if she hadn’t proved, multiple times, that she could be useful. Truth be told, she might not have been able to protect William. But she sure as hell wouldn’t have left him unguarded knowing Malcolm Merlyn knew about his existence.

“Felicity… I would have never imagined that Malcolm would…”

She snapped “Excuse me?”

_You have got to be kidding me._

“You have many flaws, Oliver, but stupidity isn’t one of them. You didn’t want to **admit** that Malcolm could do something like that. But you won’t make me believe that the thought never crossed your mind. You trusted a mass murdered who killed his own son and brain-washed his own daughter, willingly making her a target for the league of assassins. And yet you trusted him not to do anything to your son? Why? Why?! Did you think that maybe he’d feel more protective of your child than his own?!”

Oliver winced at her words and even seeing the way his eyes lowered in shame didn’t stop her. The gates had opened and she couldn’t keep all those feelings bottled up any longer.

“I could have forgiven the lie. I could have even forgiven the fact that you didn’t lie to me just once but repeatedly every time you had to go to Central City to meet this ‘new political consultant’. But you proposed to me, Oliver,” she said, her voice starting to tremble. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders, refusing to break down. Some things really needed to be said. “You wanted us to get married even sooner, while you knew very well there was this huge lie between us. You were going to marry me, and lie to me, in front of all our loved ones. I thought marriage meant something to you. And to be honest, when I arrived at the loft after William was rescued, I wanted us to talk. To slow down, push back the wedding and figure things out together, take a breath. But once again… you made a decision without consulting me. Not even once. Even when no one was forcing your hand, even when William was safe, when Samantha knew about your double life… you still didn’t even consider talking to me about it. You sent William away, followed Mari’s advice, listened to Dig’s… but didn’t even ask me once what my thoughts were. Me. The woman you were supposed to marry and share the rest of your life with. The woman you were supposed to start a family with. You didn’t consult me concerning your son. And do you know what was the last straw? Finding out from John that you had talked about William to him and to Mari. It’s not that you took that decision with Samantha, it’s that you took the time to listen to other people’s advice, but not your fiancée’s.”

Taking a deep breath, she wiped the tears from her face, the pain still intense. She could still remember how it had felt, watching her world literally fall apart. Realizing that not only Oliver had lied to her, many times, but he also didn’t feel the need to share that burden with her. It had been another slap in the face to find out he had talked to other people, listened to them but left her out of it.

“I’m sorry, Felicity,” Oliver finally said quietly “after William was rescued, I didn’t dare to come to you. I didn’t have the courage to face you at that moment, I didn’t feel like it was right to ask you about him while you had just learned about his existence and… all the rest. I didn’t want to pressure you. I know now that I betrayed you and that I should have come to you.”

“No. No, Oliver, you didn’t betray me. You betrayed us. That’s why I’m still here, and why we’re not a couple anymore.”

“I was hoping Samantha would eventually trust me and let me tell you. And I wanted to at least do the right thing for William and respect his mother’s wish so badly that… I became blind to everything else. All I could think about was trying to be a decent father for him one day and I didn’t know how, so I took my lead from Samantha. It almost felt like if I could prove myself worthy to her, I’d be worthy of him too.”

Oliver huffed out a bitter laugh “and look where that got me. I lost you, and I lost him too. I… I learned my lesson, Felicity. I meant everything I said during our wedding-”

“Fake-wedding,” she corrected him automatically.

“… during our fake-wedding. I love you. And I won’t make that same mistake again. I’m just asking for a chance to prove it to you.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for this, Oliver. I’m not sure I can trust you again and without trust, there is no relationship.”

“But do you still love me?” he asked her, looking at her almost desperately, as if she was holding his future in her hands. In a way, she was. But she was also holding hers and she needed to think of herself first.

Yet, she couldn’t lie to him. She was past that first urge she had felt of lashing out and trying to hurt him as much as he had hurt her.

“Yes, Oliver. I still do.”

“Then it’s enough. That’s all I need to know.” He smiled at her, shyly, almost as if he was seeking her approval.

Felicity shook her head, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. Yes, she still loved him, but she now knew that love wasn’t always enough.

“I don’t want to make you wait or lead you on, Oliver. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get past it.”

“You’re worth waiting for, Felicity. **We** are worth waiting for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... sooo... yep... things took an interesting turn, didn't they?  
>  It wasn't supposed to end up like that but then it felt right to have them finally say some things out loud, as a way to clear the air once and for all. Felicity let it all out, and let's just say that now things can actually start rebuilding in a healthier way ;)
> 
> Find me on Twitter @PimsiePim or tumblr pimsiepim.tumblr.com  
> Don't be shy, come say hi ;)


	5. Going Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> Chapter 5, stuff happens... yeah, NSFW probably :p

She knew it was wrong.

She knew it was wrong but it wasn’t enough to stop her. Oliver had come back from a mission, mask off, hood down, still slightly out of breath from his latest chase with the villain of the day - a random pick-pocket. Business was calm for the Arrow Team. Or whatever was left of it. Felicity had been ready to leave, all packed up, but her feet had refused to move when he had taken off his arms protections, the sight of the firm muscles making her mouth water, the thick veins clearly visible underneath the skin.

The next thing she knew, she was putting her handbag back on her chair and walking to him.

Oliver raised his head but she didn’t give him the time to say anything, her hands gripping his suit, her mouth already on his. He stilled against her, probably caught off guard, before his arms wrapped around her waist, squeezing her tightly against him as she bit his lower lip, desperate to taste him. A low groan reverberated through his chest when her tongue invaded his mouth, one of his hands palming her ass firmly enough to leave a bruise. He kneaded the soft flesh then slipped his hand underneath her skirt and the feel of his warm palm directly on her skin made her shiver with need.

Pulling on his hair, she tilted his head, deepening the kiss, hungry for him. Their tongues battled, teeth clenching almost painfully, the two of them already out of breath. She was so focused on the way Oliver tasted, the way his tongue was chasing hers, that she didn’t even notice he was lifting her on the conference table, spreading her knees and pushing between her legs.

A strangled moan escaped her lips when she felt him, hard, right against her core. He was just as affected as she was. His callous hand slipped down her thigh, his thumb stroking the skin slowly until it reached her knee. He pulled it up over his waist, rocking his hips firmly and she gasped when he pressed just against the right spot.

Their lips parted for a second and she squeezed her eyes shut, savoring the wave of pleasure his touch was already creating low in her abdomen.

“Felicity…” Oliver breathed against her lips, his voice hoarse and low, the sound so similar to his Arrow voice that it just turned her on even more. Despite everything, she wanted that man. She wanted him to make her feel good, take over her body like only he was able to. She was craving the heat, the tension, the way it felt when she suddenly let go, the almost painful pleasure radiating in her belly.

Oliver’s lips trailed down her neck, his rough stubble burning her skin so good, his lips pressing open-mouth kisses over her throat while he kept grinding against her. She felt him battle with the buttons of her shirt then heard his small frustrated groan muffled against her skin. He raised his head, making her open her eyes in protest and she gulped when she saw the heat in his. He wanted her. There was an unmistakable hunger making his pupils so wide that his eyes almost seemed black. He licked his lips and without breaking their gaze, he brought both hands to the top of her blouse. She realized in an instant what he wanted to do and she nodded, her short intake of breath betraying her arousal at the thought.

_Rip it._

The loud tearing sound echoed in the bunker, followed by the small clinking noise made by the buttons as they bounced against the floor.

Oliver’s eyes travelled down her face, pausing at her mouth and he licked his lips when he reached her breast. She was wearing a simple blue bra, classic and not really sexy but it apparently met his approval. His finger traced a strap, sliding down until it reached the top of her breast, then continued to brush against the cup until it dipped in the small valley. Her nipples hardened with his touch, goosebumps erupting across her skin when he flicked a finger between the mounds of flesh, going up and down her chest slowly. Oliver wasn’t blind to her body’s reaction, his jaw clenching at the obvious sign of her arousal. It seemed to be enough to make him snap and he roughly pushed down the cups of her bra, freeing her aching breasts that were now begging for his touch.

She could feel his eyes on her, the way he couldn’t look away from the hard little buds and the wanton part of herself rejoiced in that, rejoiced in the fact that her body was enough to hypnotize him. She leaned back on her stretched arms, the motion pushing her boobs upwards, and locked her ankles behind his thighs, forcing him closer.

Oliver groaned then, a low, almost feral groan that made her whine with need. She knew that sound so well, it was the one he made when he was about to lose control, when his hunger for her was taking over the rational part of his brain. His hands gripped her ass tightly, pressing her against him, rocking her against his length, his eyes glued to the way her breasts were bouncing lightly. Pushing back on her arms, she gained leverage to meet his hips, rubbing herself over his already impressive erection. He was wearing his leather pants, his thick length straining against the fabric. She keened, dropping her head back as she found the perfect rhythm, the perfect angle that brought her clit in direct contact with the head of his cock.

She was wet already, could feel her juices damping her panties, the way the delicate fabric would stick to the leather of Oliver’s pants, bringing even more friction. The pleasure that had started in the small bundle of nerves was now spreading to her core and she tightened her legs around him, desperate to feel him even closer, yet unwilling to lose the connection for even one second.

“Fuck…” Oliver swore, his hands tightening over her ass almost painfully and she straightened her head, her eyes following his gaze. He was staring at where their bodies were touching, and she couldn’t hold back a loud moan when she saw the way her soaked underwear was leaving a trace on his clothes.

Oliver’s head snapped up at the sound and one second later, she was lying flat on her back, the cold glass against her bare skin making her hiss, the waves of her pleasure already declining. She jerked her hips, trying to find something, anything really, to rub against but Oliver slapped her thigh and she froze. The skin tingled where his hand had roughly landed, bringing new nerve endings to life, as well as a whole new craving.

_Again._

She didn’t have time to voice her desire out loud, Oliver’s mouth already opening over her breast, covering an areola. His warm, wet mouth over the sensitive mound of flesh made her whimper, her hands reaching for his hair, nails digging into his skull as she pressed him closer. His tongue circled her nipple lazily, flicking over it, sucking the little bud, holding it between his teeth then letting it go again, only take it back into his mouth and sooth the tender flesh.

She laced her fingers through his hair, her eyes closing when he palmed the other breast, the pad of his thumb rolling circles around the nipple. Her heels fell on the floor when she shifted her legs, the soles of her feet resting on the edge of the table, her back arching when Oliver’s lips travelled across her chest, his tongue leaving a wet trail that made her shiver. He delicately bit the soft mound, sucking the flesh and she knew he was doing this on purpose, wanting to leave his mark on her skin, wanting her to think about him when she was home, to think about how good they were together.

Oliver’s tongue traced circles over her nipple, his warm breath almost a caress on her hypersensitive skin. With one last lick over the hard bud, he trailed his lips down her stomach, much to her chagrin, now focusing his attention to her belly button.

Pulling on his hair, she tried to get him back where he was a second ago but Oliver just shook his head, apparently unfazed. His hands covered her breasts, massaging the flesh and she sighed in relief, her own hands covering his, encouraging him. Her nails bit the back of his hands when he pinched the nipples, creating a flash of electricity that made her whimper, her teeth biting her lower lip in a futile attempt to muffle the sound.

Her legs were jerking, unable to stay still, rubbing against the leather of Oliver’s suit, her toes curling.

Suddenly, Oliver let go of her and straightened up, and the lack of contact felt almost like a bucket of cold water.

“What-” she moaned, leaning on her elbows and trying to reach out for him and pull him back against her. Oliver pushed her back roughly, making her slide across the glass until her head was almost in the center of the table. She stared at the ceiling for a second, trying to gather her bearings while Oliver pushed her skirt over her hips, the fabric bundling around her waist. He impatiently grabbed her panties, rolling them down her thighs, passing her knees and ankles then dropped them carelessly on the floor.

She was almost naked, apart from her bra that was just lowered under her breasts and her skirt around her hips, with Oliver hovering between her opened legs, still in his suit. He bent over the table, his chest forcing her legs to spread, his face now inches from the apex of her thighs and her breath caught in her throat when she realized why he had pushed her up.

“Oh God…” she panted as his strong arms slipped underneath her thighs, spreading them for him and pulling her towards his face.

_Yes, yes, yes._

With anybody else, she would have been embarrassed, or unsure of herself. After all she was right underneath bright lights and he probably could see every single detail of her anatomy… her very private anatomy. But this was Oliver. He knew her body better than she knew it herself. He had seen the good days and bad days and nothing had ever been able to diminish his desire for her. If anything, being so exposed only peaked her arousal, because she knew he could see exactly how much she wanted him.

She could feel him shifting, making himself comfortable and she licked her lips, her heart beating faster, dying to get that very first lick, the first touch of his tongue over her folds. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the ceiling, to focus on the slightest move.

He blew softly over her sex, then, hooking his arms underneath her thighs, he pressed his hands flat on her mound, opening her folds. His warm breath brushed her lips and she almost jumped from the table. She could literally feel her core weeping with need, her hands clenching desperately by her sides, dying to grab his head and push it between her legs. His tongue, his wonderful tongue could do magic and it had been so long since he had last gone down on her that she truly felt like she was going to pass out if she had to wait any longer. She tensed when he stopped breathing against her and threw one of her legs over his shoulders, pressing the other one down on the table.

“Oh my God…” she whispered, knowing it was only a matter of seconds now and soon enough she’ll feel him, there… A long moan spilled from her lips when he licked a trail from her entrance to the edge of her clit and she lost the battle with herself, her hands reaching for his hair, pulling on them, pushing his face against her sex. He grunted against her flesh, sending vibrations across her sensitive folds and a throbbing need started to grow deep inside her.

“Oliver, please…” she keened, dying to feel his mouth on her, sensing the blood rushing to the small bundle of nerves he was purposely avoiding. He kept circling her clitoris, brushing against it, sliding down to her opening, using the flat of his tongue to rub against her folds, teasing her.

One of his long fingers nudged at her entrance, circling it lazily, making her inner walls clench with need. Digging her heel in his back, she tried to rock her hips, tried to impale herself but he shook his head, clicking his tongue loudly. He wedged his finger between her inner lips, sliding it up until it bumped against her clitoris. He added a second finger, then scissored them, spreading the lips up to the point of discomfort and she was about to beg him when finally, finally, he opened his mouth and covered the small erect bundle of nerves. His mouth was warm, his wet tongue barely brushing her clit at first but it was enough to send a deep flash of pleasure to her core. Using the flat of his tongue, he finally rubbed it more firmly, moving up and down, left to right, while two of his fingers thrust inside her.

Her walls squeezed them, fluttering, and she knew it wouldn’t take long. She was aching, her clit literally throbbing with the need to come and release the tension. There were waves of pleasure building, each stroke of his tongue taking her higher, making her tense towards that blissful release that was getting closer and closer. Oliver was thrusting his fingers inside her, crooking them upwards, massaging that special spot he knew so well.

She could hear, above her breathy moans, the obscene sounds Oliver was making against her folds, licking her juices, then going back to her clit, suckling it, then releasing it over and over again, stroking the little bud relentlessly. Every time his touch caused a new gush of wetness to coat his fingers, he would groan, a low, deep, animal groan that was driving her wild.

She was close, so close, her core pulsating, the heat spreading in her abdomen. Her legs tightened, shaking so violently that Oliver had to force her thigh back down on the table and she let out a long wail when she felt her pleasure peaking. Her orgasm was there, right there, and it was going to be a massive one judging by the way her sex was throbbing. Holding on to Oliver’s hair, she lost all control, pushing his mouth against her as she rubbed herself furiously against his lips. He forced one of her hands down, entwining his fingers with hers, his devilish tongue licking her clit just a tiny bit harder.

She was chanting his name as she chased her release, gasping loudly, literally mewling words that probably made no sense, desperate to reach the edge. Suddenly, every muscle clenched in her lower abdomen and Oliver applied just a little bit more pressure on her clitoris and she knew she only needed one more stroke…

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Her computer alert. No! **Not now!**

Oliver stopped suddenly, the delicious friction against her sex vanishing in an instant and she groaned, reaching out, ready to push him back between her legs so he could finish the job… only to find herself losing her balance, falling on her side and landing on the floor with a loud thump.

“What-” she groaned, one hand leaving the apex of her thigh to push back against the cold floor and sit up.

_Wait… my hand was where?!_

She blushed furiously when she realized she had been masturbating. In the bunker. During a wet dream. A wet dream involving her ex-fiancé. And now, here she was, horny as hell, the promise of a very satisfying orgasm quickly dying away.

_Well… this is taking all that sexual frustration thingy to a whole new level._

Groaning, she scrambled for purchase on her shaky legs, sitting down on her chair, her mind filling the blanks. It had been a slow night, Oliver mostly patrolling while she was doing her usual scanning of police records. She had yawned, bored out of her mind when her computer clock had passed 10PM. Next thing she knew, she was resting her head on her folded arms, thinking a small nap wouldn’t hurt, Oliver being only a com away.

Oliver.

“Oh no,” she murmured, gasping in horror. Oliver. The coms. Had he heard? Had she talked? Or worse… moaned?

No. If she had made a noise and not answered his questions, he would have come back in an instant, she reassured herself. Not to mention, she didn’t talk in her sleep.

That wouldn’t make facing him any easier, though. She had quite literally almost gotten off dreaming of his mouth on her. Not that it was the first time Oliver had played a part in some… very vivid dreams but usually she didn’t have to face him right afterwards.

“Overwatch?” his voice in her ear made her jump on her chair.

“Hum… yes?” she replied, clearing her throat. Now that she was fully awake, she was getting very aware of the… aftermath of her little sleep-rubbing. _Thank God I have spare clothes here._

“The alarm?” he asked shortly.

The alarm… what alarm? She blinked, her brain still too foggy to put two and two together.

“I heard the computer alarm,” Oliver insisted and she slapped her forehead, rolling her chair until she was seated correctly in front of the computer.

“Yeah, sorry. Hum. There’s apparently an intrusion in a panties shop on Elm Street,” she explained, trying to calm down her breathing, her eyes widening when she realized her Freudian slip. _Oh my god… please tell me he didn’t hear correctly._

“… a what?”

_Damn._

“A pa… pastry shop. Where you can buy pastries. Things you can put in your mouth and not… not… rip or… ,” Felicity facepalmed, her hand shaking with embarrassment as she took a deep calming breath, mentally counting down. “I obviously meant a pastry shop. Although, I have no idea why someone would want to break in a pastry shop in the middle of the night, everybody knows the right moment to do that is in the morning. Even if I can understand a sudden craving for… sweet stuff in the middle of the night. It happens to me. All the time.”

Gritting her teeth, she added under her breath “especially lately.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she replied innocently, pinching her lips. A small alert signal popped up on her screen again and she sighed. “False alarm, Green Arrow. SCPD already handled it.”

“Alright then. Heading back. Streets are quiet.”

“OK. Good. Great idea. It’s quiet here too, by the way. Nothing out of the ordinary. Absolutely nothing,” she rambled, cursing her unusually high-pitched voice. He was going to be there soon and he would figure out right away that something was off if she didn’t calm down.

“Be there in ten,” Oliver replied in his usual Arrow voice. It reassured her, his tone being the same normal one he always used. It helped her soothe her nerves and she was already much calmer when she made her way to the bathroom to… clean up a bit.

She took a deep breath as she stared into her reflection in the mirror above the sink.

Eleven days.

It had been eleven days since they finally had a conversation about their break-up. Eleven days of awkward silence, hopeful glances and bitten lips. And apparently, a whole other kind of sexual frustration.

But damn it felt good. Like a weight had lifted from her chest. Voicing out loud what she had kept for herself for months had helped her put things into perspective. What she had told Oliver was true: the lie itself, no matter how destructive and wrong, hadn’t been the deal-breaker. Everything around that lie had been the last straw for her. She hadn’t fully come to terms with that until she had told him how left out she had felt.

So, here she was now, passing cold water on her cheeks, mentally preparing herself for yet another awkward moment with him. Her body still wanted him, that was clear as day. But she didn’t know where they were heading, or even if she really wanted to head somewhere with him. In a way, it was still too fresh. Not the break-up itself but the realization of what exactly had hurt her the most.

Truth be told, she believed Oliver. She believed he really had learned from that gigantic mistake. He was more open with her, sharing the darkest parts of himself in a way that was much more meaningful now that they weren’t a couple anymore. He was trying to show her he was willing to change. It was the little things, whether it was something bothering him at work or concerning the Arrow business. He was leaning on her, asking her for advice, listening to her, taking her opinion into account.

Trusting her.

They had managed to keep their hands off each other during those eleven days, by some kind of implicit rule. And for some reason, that truce was much harder to follow now than it had been before they had sex on the mat. They were reaching a delicate, fragile balance in their relationship and sex would only mess things up. Oliver had stopped working out on the salmon ladder, much to her chagrin, even though she couldn’t deny it was probably for the best. She had given up the idea of being trained by him - for now at least. The idea of his bare, sweaty chest just inches away from her… his muscles rolling underneath his damp skin…

She shifted on her feet, squeezing her thighs and trying to get rid of the small tingle that was still making her legs wobbly. She had barely gotten a grip over herself, now wasn’t the time to get all worked up again. If the sole fact of falling asleep in the bunker was enough to make her dream of Oliver going down on her on the conference table, it really was for the best for them to physically keep their distance.

She heard Oliver coming back before she was done, but when she finally opened the bathroom door, she was satisfied with herself. She looked calm, collected, and even if her cheeks were just a little bit more colored than usual, it wasn’t too suspicious.

Oliver smiled at her when she walked back upstairs. He had already gotten rid of the jacket and arm protections and she gulped at the sight of his arms, the way his undershirt was clinging to his body.

_Stop. Stop it right now._

“Quiet night, right?” she asked as she walked past him. “That’s two nights in a row.”

“Yup. Not that I’m complaining. After last year, I welcome the change. And the extra hours of sleep,” Oliver answered as he placed his bow and quiver into the glass case.

“Well, if you don’t need me… I mean if you don’t need anything from me…” Felicity winced at her poor choice of words, the blush she had painfully managed to get rid of creeping back up on her cheeks “Arrow-wise. If you don’t need anything from me, Arrow-wise.”

“No. I’m fine, I’m going to head back home too,” Oliver reassured her with a smile.

“Good. So am I. Heading back home. To the loft, where I’m going to have a nice long shower.”

_And try to stop thinking about your mouth and your fingers and your abs and your…_

She hurried to her chair, picking up her jacket and slipping it on in record time. She needed to get out of there, and fast or she would climb him like a tree.

Checking one last time that her computer was still running its searches, she turned around, ready to leave, only to bump into Oliver’s hard chest.

“God, you’re hard,” she moaned miserably, her purse almost slipping from her shoulder “why are you hard… and strong? Why aren’t you soft? Preferably with a beer belly while we’re at it?”

Oliver pinched his lips and she saw a flash of laughter in his eyes, right before he leaned in to whisper in her ear “Then you wouldn’t dream of me ripping your clothes off, would you?”

With one last wink, he licked his lips, his eyes straying down her body, pausing for the briefest second at the apex of her thighs. Felicity stayed glued on her spot, unable to move as he walked away, probably heading down to the bathroom himself.

Her heart beating wildly, her throat suddenly dry, she whined, a long, desperate sound that resonated in the empty space. “Fuuuuuck.”

_He knows._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So?  
> I'm mean, right? XD  
> It is called Bunker UST, hey...
> 
> Find me on Twitter @PimsiePim or Tumblr pimsiepim.tumblr.com   
> Don't be shy, come say hi ;)


	6. Going Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> So this chapter will bring Oliver's side of Felicity's... actions... + we'll go into his mind concerning more serious matters :)

“Rip it.”

Oliver froze. Then blinked.

_… Rip it?_

He was about to ask Felicity if she was talking to him or to… well. There was nobody else on the comms, apart from the two of them but maybe she was talking to herself about… a band-aid or…

Her breathy moan reached him and he gulped, recognizing the sound right away. That was her “I’m getting really worked up here” sound. He knew that sound. Damn it, he knew it very well.

_So she’s probably not talking about a band-aid._

He was on the rooftop of an old abandoned building in the Glades, patrolling as usual. The streets were quiet, and he was mostly on the field to stay in shape and keep an eye on everything. Not to mention, there had been some kind of awkwardness between him and Felicity ever since their talk and putting a bit of distance between them was probably a good idea.

That was until he heard the small high-pitched noise she made. Had she forgotten the comms were open? Was she caressing herself in the bunker?... Did she do that often?

The idea of Felicity, sitting at her chair, glasses on, pleasuring herself… He mentally cursed when he realized that his pants were getting tight. Way too tight. As quietly as possible, he put the bow down, his hand reaching over his chest to shut the line down. Whatever was happening, he was almost positive she wasn’t intending for him to hear it.

“Oliver… Again.”

_Close the line. Close the fucking line._

Panting. She was panting now. Oliver shifted on his feet, spreading his legs apart, trying to give more space to a… certain part of his anatomy. Just hearing her small voice, her ragged breathing, and he was unbelievably turned on.

The Green Arrow was patrolling with an arrow in his pants. And Oliver couldn’t bring himself to shut down his comms. Not when she was moaning his name.

The right thing to do would be to make a small noise to alert her he was still there.

Or close the line.

That’s what a gentleman would do.

Unfortunately, Oliver didn’t feel like a gentleman at the moment. He felt like a very turned on man who couldn’t help but remember vividly how Felicity looked when her pleasure was building. The way her eyes would lose all focus. The way she would bite her lips, scratch his shoulders, his back, or any other body part she could reach. How good she tasted against his tongue, the sounds he could coax out of her…

It took all of his will power to not forget about his bow and rush his way back to the bunker. Instead he stayed where he was, fists clenched, gritting his teeth, repeating in his head that no, touching himself was not an appropriate behavior for a hero. He was a prisoner of his own lust, masochist to the bones, accepting the torture of listening to her, unable to turn off the line. If only he could be there, with her, he would just bend her over the table, rip her panties and sink into her warmth… she’d be tight and so wet for him…

His hand moved before he could realize what he was doing. He was about to open his pants, hero or not hero, when a beeping sound and a loud thump reached him, followed by a very startled cry from Felicity.

Gulping, he took a deep breath, making sure his voice would be as neutral as possible. “Overwatch?”

Her answer, short, ragged and confused confirmed three things:

One, she didn’t know he was on the line.

Two, she hadn’t come. That wasn’t the voice of a sated Felicity. That was the voice of a horny as hell Felicity.

And three, she had probably been dreaming.

She rambled an explanation concerning the alarm he had heard and he quickly made his way to his motorcycle, wincing as he sat down on it. So, riding a bike with a boner wasn’t exactly the most comfortable thing, apparently. Locking his jaw, he started the engine and was about to make a turn to head to the store Felicity had indicated him when she told him it was a false alert.

Ten minutes later, he was parking his bike in the Bunker’s garage, hard-on still… hard. The motor’s vibrations hadn’t exactly helped and he was actually relieved to see Felicity wasn’t at her station. It gave him a few precious minutes to get a grip over himself but he was still half-hard when she walked out of the bathroom, a slight blush on her cheeks.

He followed her when she went to get her jacket near her chair, not wanting her to go just yet. He was trying to come up with an excuse for her to stay when she turned around, bumping into him.

She groaned, gripping her purse “God, you’re hard.”

_So you noticed that?_

“Why are you hard… and strong? Why aren’t you soft? Preferably with a beer belly while we’re at it?”

She looked at him, almost frowning as if somehow, his abs were a personal offense. It had been eleven days since she had last looked at him that way, and he had to bite back a smile. She was missing his body. It was a start.

Unable to resist, he leaned in, breathing her in. Her scent invaded his senses and what was just a half-boner turned into a full erection. His voice low, he whispered “Then you wouldn’t dream of me ripping your clothes off, would you?”

It was a low blow, and he knew it. He had had every intention to keep the secret about what he had heard and never talk about it. But… if the only way they had to rekindle was through their attraction… so be it. He was ready to play dirty.

She froze, her eyes growing wide and he winked at her, full charm on, before letting his eyes travel her body. He unconsciously licked his lips, knowing very well where her hands had been merely ten minutes ago. It was, after all, where a very stiff body part of his wanted to be as well.

Not really trusting himself, he headed downstairs, thinking a long shower would probably be necessary. He was halfway down when he heard Felicity’s “Fuuuuuuuck!” and he grinned, a wide, smug smile stretching his lips as he got rid of his clothes.

Stepping inside the shower, he turned the water to warm, letting it cascade over his chest, massaging his hard length. He sighed, closing his eyes, enjoying the way the water felt on his shaft, imagining he wasn’t alone in this bathroom.

Circling his fist over his cock, he pictured Felicity kneeling in front of him, opening her lips to take him into her mouth.

Felicity had the most perfect mouth, warm, wet, with a devilish little tongue that could make him roll his eyes to the back of his head. Resting one hand against the tiles, he picked up the pace, stroking up and down, picturing Felicity’s head bobbing in rhythm, her hands gripping his thighs, her nails digging into his skin as she let him take the lead.

It hadn’t always been that way. The very first time she had gone down on him, she had stared at his cock, her mouth twitching a bit and had murmured a soft “OK… you can do this. You can totally do this.” She had explained to him that she wasn’t exactly used to this kind of size, but was up for the challenge anyway.

It was the first time in his life that Oliver Queen had laughed before a blow job. It was also probably the shortest laugh in the history of short laughs, because as soon as she had opened her mouth over the head of his cock, he hadn’t wanted to laugh at all. Wanting her to find her own pace and be comfortable above everything else, he had fisted his hands in the sheets besides him, swearing he wouldn’t move an inch.

His hand picked up the pace as he remembered how proud she had been, her smile when he hadn’t been able to hold back and had come in her mouth after a total of two minutes. Little by little, she had grown more comfortable, until she could eventually let him take the lead. Being able to push into her wet mouth, her eyes staring at him, full of trust and desire… the way her throat vibrated around his cock whenever she would moan…

He let out a low, breathless groan, his orgasm ripping through him, sparks of pleasure spreading from his spine to his thighs.

Catching his breath, he dipped his head forward, the water cascading down his back while the beating of his heart calmed down. The tension left his muscles, the relief brought by his release kicking in.

Relief. That’s all it was. A physical way to get rid of the tension. Just another reminder that now he was alone.

By his own fault. In many ways, he knew he was his own worst enemy. Looking back, he still didn’t understand how he had not seen the danger, how he had not realized how utterly wrong his choices had been.

He had been blinded by the notion of “greater good”, by the confidence that he could control things, keep them separated until he eventually found a way to make them work. Felicity had always been with him, by his side, always forgiving him and supporting him. And instead of cherishing that, he had taken it for granted.

What she had said was true: he hadn’t wanted to admit that Malcolm could betray him. He hadn’t wanted to admit that Malcolm would act… exactly the way he had always acted. Selfishly, putting his own interests above those of anyone, children included. How ironic was it that Damian Darhk had actually treated William with more care than Merlyn himself?

It was his own desperate need to believe how irreplaceable a father was that had been the source of this fiasco. He had lied to Felicity thinking his son needed him. He had kept on lying thinking his relationship with his son should be put first. He had disregarded the danger Merlyn could be because all he could see wasn’t the Dark Archer or Ra’s Al Ghul, but Thea’s father. And if Oliver admitted Malcolm’s presence in Thea’s life was not only unnecessary but dangerous… it would be admitting his own presence in William’s life was unnecessary as well.

But the truth was… William didn’t need him. He was a healthy, quite happy young boy.

It was for selfish reasons that Oliver had tried to create a relationship with him. When the previous candidate had her own child kidnapped and tortured to force her to pull out of the race, how could he have shrugged over the danger he could potentially be for his own? Was it the idea that he could protect him? From hundreds of miles away? He should have told Barry. He should have asked Felicity to keep tab on them. He should have asked Lyla for help.

His desire to be a father had blinded him to the realities of his life. His confidence that Felicity would understand and accept everything had been his downfall. He realized now that he was re-creating old patterns. Lies, secrets. That’s how his relationship with Laurel had been. He would lie, she would smile and pretend she didn’t know. That’s how his mother had raised him. She would keep secrets under the pretense to protect her children. He had kept William’s life a secret, thinking he would achieve the same goal.

He should have told Samantha about his double-life. He should have told her he could protect them if she let him tell his friends. He should have explained that Felicity wasn’t just someone in his life, but the woman he was planning to propose to.

Or maybe he should have accepted her decision and understood that throwing an innocent child in the chaos of his life would be the most selfish decision he would ever make.

How can one person screw so much over one simple thing? Every single decision he had made concerning his son had been wrong. Every. Single. One.

When Felicity had given him back the ring at the loft, he had almost broken down. After saying goodbye to the son he was just getting to know, the love of his life was leaving him. He had lost them both. At first, he had thought they could fix this. During their fake-wedding, the way Felicity had talked to Cupid… he had known, deep down, that she still loved him. And if she still loved him… it was all that mattered, right?

Wrong. Again.

He had broken something in Felicity. Her trust. The very foundation of their relationship. He had damaged it to the core. The one person who had always been there, by his side, had also been the one he had betrayed the most.

After days of weeping - Thea’s words, not his -, after Laurel’s death, after the final fight with Darhk, after the team splitting up… she had been the one to stay by his side.

It must have meant something.

And ever since then, after all those nights just the two of them, all those dinners, those talks, those little looks and… a few heated sessions on various surfaces of the bunker, she was still there. The hunger for his body was back in her eyes and if tonight had proven anything it was that she still wanted him.

The connection between them was still there. The attraction as well. The longing, the love… it was still there. The pain in her eyes was fading away, the betrayal was fading away. Little by little, they were rebuilding a relationship. Could they ever get back to where they were? Probably not. Both had changed a lot. But he wouldn’t stop fighting for her and trying to win her back. No empty promises. He would never lie to her again. Not when he knew the price the pay. She was the only one for him and he was the only one for her. All he was asking for was a second chance.

And if he had to use his body for that… so be it. Oliver Queen was a master when it came to playing dirty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. I know it's a shorter chapter and nothing really happens, but it was necessary to get a glimpse of what was going on in Oliver's mind.
> 
> Find me on twitter @Pimsiepim or tumblr pimsiepim.tumblr.com  
> Don't shy, come say hi!


	7. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys :)  
> We're back, now that SOTY and SDCC are out of the way lol.
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this ;)

“You’re an adult, Felicity. You can do this. You’ll just walk in, say hi and sit down. Just pretend nothing happened. Like you have a sudden case of amnesia. Sexual amnesia.”

Felicity took a deep breath then finally stepped inside the elevator. The few seconds it took to take her to the bunker were enough to make her stomach dance the flamenco. Plastering a smile on her face, she walked out of the elevator, letting out a huge sigh of relief when she saw that Oliver wasn’t there.

“Thank God for small miracles…” she murmured as she walked up the few steps leading to her station.

She fired up her computers, connected them to her tablets and after barely a minute, she heard Oliver’s footsteps in her back. She mentally thanked him for not being his discreet usual self and giving her a warning this time, but it wasn’t enough to keep her shoulders from stiffening.

“Felicity,” he greeted her as he shrugged off his suit jacket and got rid of his tie.

“Oliver,” she replied curtly, her eyes fixed on her keyboard.

“Anything out of the ordinary yet?” He asked her, stepping by her chair and leaning towards her to get a look at the screens. She stiffened even more, her nose catching his unmistakable scent. Woody, with a bit of citrus and… She squirmed on her seat, moving a quarter of an inch to the left in a desperate and futile attempt to put some distance between them.

“Nope. As you can probably see very clearly… all quiet.”

Oliver rested his hand on the desk, fingers drumming absent-mindedly as he took a closer look to one of her searches. “What’s that?”

“It’s… I’m just keeping tabs on the criminals set free from Iron Heights. It’s not because we haven’t heard of them here that they are not causing havoc somewhere else. If they do, I could send some anonymous tips concerning their identity or MO.”

Turning his head to face her, he grinned. “That’s very you. Any… luck so far?”

_ Did he emphasize on luck? Or am I being paranoid? I am totally being paranoid, right? _

_ Right. _

Oliver raised an eyebrow, a small glimmer of mischief shining in his eyes.

_ I am so not paranoid. _

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible. “Nope… Things have been disappointing for a while.”

“Maybe you just need to wait for the right time?”

“Maybe there will never be a right time and all of this is just futile?” she shot back, more sharply than she had intended to. A flicker of hurt crossed Oliver’s face and she cursed herself. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him.

“I’m just going to work out a bit,” he sighed, straightening up, before she could apologize for her harsh tone.

As soon as he was out of sight, she slumbered back on her chair, guilt invading her. Why did she always do that? It wasn’t right. Or fair. She had the right to express her anger or displeasure, but why did he never snap back?

She was surprised to hear him coming back merely a few minutes later and was already opening her mouth to apologize when the words got stuck in her throat.

Oliver didn’t look at her, just walked to the salmon ladder. Cargo pants. Shirtless. Because yeah, of course, shirtless.

_ So maybe he does fight back... _

She managed to pretend to be absorbed by her searches for a total of fifteen seconds. A personal record, actually.

Glancing as discreetly as possible, she bit her lower lip when she saw his ripped abs, playing underneath the skin of his stomach, the way his legs would bend before he’d reach for the next level…

Oliver was grunting with the effort, the sound reminding her of... other kinds of efforts. One that involved a willing partner, for instance.

She could see, even from the small distance, the thick veins in his arms and was dying to lick them, to let her tongue travel all over his muscles, taste his skin, feel how warm it was under her lips.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

_ Oh thank God. Literally saved by the bell. _

“Robbery in a fast-food. Multiple weapons. Customers inside,” she explained while Oliver jumped from the ladder.

He was already suiting up, throwing his clothes in the glass case. In less than two minutes, he was ready, heading for the garage while she grabbed her earpiece.

“Address?” he asked her through the comms.

She guided him, the place being not far away from the bunker. In less than five minutes, he was parking his bike in a small street behind the restaurant. Felicity jumped on her seat at the sound of multiple gunshots being fired, then gulped when she heard the first police reports.

**Three shooters. Automatic rifles. About twenty people held hostages.**

“Trying to get through the roof,” Oliver explained quietly.

“Be careful. Three shooters, automatic rifles, hostages.”

He didn’t reply and for long minutes, the only sounds coming from his side were the echoes of more gunshots and his short breath as he climbed his way to God knew where. She updated him with every bit of info she could find, but she knew that silence would only answer her. His breathing was the most soothing sound in these cases, making her know he had heard her and was fine.

Until that short intake of breath.

That wasn’t a soothing sound.

“... Green Arrow?” she asked, her voice trembling, knowing she was the only one on the line able to check on him and being minutes away from him. Powerless.

The only answer she got was a groan and a hiss.

She waited, counting until ten, then asked again. “Green Arrow?”

_ Please, Oliver. Please answer. _

**Suspects disarmed.**

Felicity exhaled loudly, relief crashing through her. He was fine. Bad guys were being handled.

“Green Arrow?” she repeated again, frowning when she didn’t get an answer. Not a sound.

**A dozen people down. Several victims.**

Several victims. Several victims.

_ Oliver, answer me. Please, please. Answer me. _

She could see, from traffic cameras, ambulances arriving at the scene, paramedics taking care of the wounded. She went through each and every camera she found in the perimeter, but couldn’t find a trace of Oliver. She spotted his bike, a few streets down, but no sign of its owner. If he wasn’t outside… then he was still inside.

And not responding. While there were victims.

No.

This couldn’t be happening. It was Oliver, he was going to be fine. It wasn’t the first time he had been handling machine guns.

_ … But he was used to have his team with him… _

Should she go? Should she stay? How could she explain her presence in the area? How could she even find him?

Her hands shaking, she stood up, staring at the empty space. She was alone. There was literally no one she could call, no one to go and check on him.

Her decision was made in an instant. Grabbing the keys to the van, she made her way to the garage, using Oliver’s last tracker signal for direction. She tried to not linger too much on the fact that the tracker had stopped functioning properly. They all had a back-up tracker, but it was always shut down to avoid double signals.

“Green Arrow, I’m coming to get you. I need you to turn the back-up tracker on.”

Thankfully, the roads she took were quiet, most of the activity concentrating on a street parallel to the one she was using.

_ Come on, Oliver. Turn that tracker on. Please. At least show me you heard me and you’re still conscious. Show me you’re not… _

She shook her head, blinking the tears away. She was not going there. Oliver Queen was a survivor and it wasn’t some asshole with a machine gun that would get rid of him.

 

Eventually seeing his bike, parked discreetly in a narrow alley between two abandoned shops, she sighed in relief. Stopping the van, she grabbed her cellphone, once again pleading him, looking around her to make sure there was no one around.

BIP.

“Oh thank God,” she cried out when she saw the small red dot flashing on the screen of her cellphone. He was just a street away.

Suddenly, there was a small sound in her ear, familiar and oh-so reassuring.

“Overwatch,” Oliver’s hoarse voice finally reached her after what felt like hours. He was in pain. That was obvious. But he was still breathing.

“I’m here. I’m coming to get you,” she reassured him, her steps faster, knowing he was only about a hundred feet away from her.

“Should have stayed... at the base.”

“Not a chance, you idiot.”

“Is that my new codename?” he groaned, and she almost started to cry right there in the middle of a deserted street at the small teasing she could hear in his voice.

Her vision getting blurry, she rubbed her eyes, sniffling “it might be.”

“I’m behind... an old trash container.”

She was almost running now, his weakening voice making her panic rise again.

Thankfully, the container was right at the beginning of the street but when she saw him, pale face, his mouth set in a firm line… this was serious. He was on the edge of passing out. He probably had passed out during those minutes where she hadn’t heard him.

She cut off the comms line, shoving her phone into her pocket as she knelt next to him, tilting his head upwards. His pupils were responsive, or as responsive as pupils can be in an almost dark alley.

He grimaced a smile. “Got shot.”

_ No shit, Sherlock. _

There was a metallic smell in the air and she gasped once she saw the blood covering his suit.

“Oliver, you’re gonna have to help me. I’m going to get the van as close as possible and we’re gonna get to ARGUS. I can’t fix this by myself.”

“Mmhmmh. Van. ARGUS. Got it.” He nodded slowly, as if even that simple movement was hard for him and she cradled his cheek, meeting his eyes.

“Stay with me, OK?”

“Always.”

Her chin trembled, tears burning her eyes and before she could stop herself, she was leaning in, pressing a soft, short kiss on his lips. He was alright. He was going to be alright.

 

 

She would never remember how she made it to ARGUS. Her brain completely shut down. She went from kissing Oliver to Lyla hugging her and telling her he would be fine.

It didn’t take long at all for the doctors to patch him up. Nothing vital had been touched, but he had lost a lot of blood, and that was what had caused him to faint.

Felicity twisted the tissue she had in her hands, nodding as the middle-aged woman explained that Oliver would wake up in the next hour and he should probably tell his chief of staff that he had a severe food poisoning to explain his absence for at least a couple of days.

Knowing Oliver like she did, he probably wouldn’t do so.

“Here, have some coffee,” Lyla said gently, handing her a plastic cup when the doctor left her alone. They were sitting outside the small room where Oliver was resting, in the brand new headquarters of ARGUS.

“Thank you,” Felicity took a small gulp, sniffling. “I really thought… that maybe this time…”  She trailed off, the gigantic lump in her throat making it impossible for her to talk.

“He’s a strong one. And he had you. You did the right thing.”

“Streets have been so quiet lately, he’s never really been in great danger before. It was easy. But now… he’s by himself out there, Lyla.”

Felicity bit her lips, staring at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“He isn’t. You are there. You  **were** there. Oliver knows how to handle risks. And he’s going to be fine.”

Lyla pressed her knee reassuringly, taking a sip of her own coffee. Felicity couldn’t help but admire her, the way she kept her head cool in every circumstance.

“How do you manage to stay so calm?” Felicity asked her, wondering if there was some special trick she could teach her.

“I wouldn’t be handling things that well if it was John in that room, Felicity.”

“John is your husband and the father of your child. It’s different. I’m supposed to be Oliver’s partner, someone he can rely on during… tough times.”

Lyla looked at her quietly “Are you?”

“Am I what?” Felicity asked, frowning.

“His partner? Is that really all you are? Is this really all he is?”

“... we’re not together anymore, Lyla. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“But you still love him.”

“Of course, I do!” Felicity huffed out. “You don’t… I was going to marry him, this kind of commitment and feelings just don’t vanish.”

“What went through your mind when you found him?”

“That he couldn’t die. He couldn’t leave me alone. He still had so many things to do, so many dreams to make come true. As Mayor, as the Green Arrow, as a man.”

“Did you think about the lie during those moments?”

“When you say the lie, I assume you mean the whole William situation?”

“Yes. When you thought you were going to lose him, and forever this time, did you think about your break-up or did you think about how you couldn’t see yourself going forward without him?”

“I… I don’t know, Lyla. It all happened so quickly, I’m not sure my brain was coherent or… or even...” Felicity stuttered, averting her eyes.

“I think you know, Felicity. I’m not judging. I’ve been here before, remember?”

Yeah… of course. Lyla had divorced Dig years ago… then they had rekindled.

“I knew I was pregnant with Sara when Slade took over Starling. Truth be told… I didn’t know what I wanted to do. My first idea was to keep our relationship the way it was. A lot of people are separated and still raise their child. But when I found out that John was in the line of fire… I didn’t hesitate one second. Life or death situations open your eyes to what your heart truly wants, Felicity.”

“I’m not sure I can trust him again,” Felicity whispered, bowing her head. “I don’t want to be hurt like that again.”

“... You need to ask yourself one question. What kind of pain would you rather go through again. The break-up? Or Oliver almost dying in front of your eyes? Which one is worth taking a risk?”

Felicity stayed silent, her mind buzzing. She knew the answer to that question. There was no hesitation. The lies, the betrayal, had hurt so badly. But the mere idea of losing Oliver had been so brutal, so violent that there was, truly, no choice to make.

Lyla eventually stood up, patting her leg. “You know… people do change. Learn from their mistakes. You have been separated for what… six months now? Are you, truly, really happy in your life right now? Or is something still missing? Something only Oliver can give you?”

“Mrs Michaels? The patient is stirring. He should wake up soon.” A nurse interrupted them, glancing between the two women hesitantly.

“Go. He’d want you to be there,” Lyla gently nudged her inside the room, then closed the door.

 

There was a small beep sound echoing, in perfect rhythm with Oliver’s heartbeat and she could see his eyes fluttering. She quickly took a seat next to his bed, her hand automatically reaching for his, her thumb stroking his knuckles.

It took another couple of minutes before Oliver finally regained complete consciousness.

“Hi,” he eventually whispered, low, when his eyes settled on her.

She let out a trembling smile. “Hi.”

“... I guess I didn’t die?”

“Again. Cool,” she finished for him, her voice watering as she remembered how she had been - quite roughly - introduced to his double life, almost four years ago. They had been through a lot ever since that fateful night.

He had changed her life.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, his eyes soft.

She nodded, pinching her lips, staring at the way she was holding his hand firmly between hers.

“Hey,” he whispered softly.

Raising her head, she met his eyes, knowing she was probably letting him see way too much of what she was feeling at the moment.

“You got to play doctor with me,” he winked. “I know you missed it.”

She knew it was probably the drugs talking because Oliver in pain wasn’t exactly charming or flirty. But it felt so good to hear his voice, see the light in his eyes, that she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She let out a teary laugh, then wiped a tear that was rolling on her cheek. “I’d rather we stick to ouchies and band-aids next time if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll do my best,” he answered sleepily.

“I should let you rest. Doctors said nothing vital was hit, no broken bone. You just lost a lot of blood.”

“Good. Stay?”

Pinching her lips, she nodded. She didn’t want to leave his side anyway, so why put up a fight over something they both wanted?

“Any victims?”

“Only the shooters. Several people are severely wounded though. But so far, no innocent died. As far as I know.”

“You look tired. You should rest.”

“Look who’s talking. I’m not the one who almost got… almost…” She choked as she remembered how pale he had been, how she had thought that maybe this would be the time he wouldn’t make it.

She let go of his hand, covering her face as sobs racked through her.

“Shhhh. I’m OK. I’m fine.”

“Don’t do that to me again, Oliver. Don’t you dare do that to me again!” She cried out, her breathing ragged while his hand slowly, hesitantly started to lace through her hair. She leaned into his touch and he softly nudged her face forward, until her cheek was cushioned on his stomach, his hand resting on her skull, gently stroking as he kept on whispering soothing sounds.

She breathed in deeply, his scent reassuring her, so familiar despite the chemical smell of the bandage that was wrapped around his left shoulder and upper arm.

Their gaze met and she smiled through her last tears.

They were going to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha... things are moving forward, aren't they?  
> Nothing like life and death to open your eyes (... unless you're an arrow writer and think that when two people who love each other think the end of the world is going to happen, they talk about someone else :|) and maybe make you see things from a different perspective.
> 
> Find me on twitter @PimsiePim or tumblr pimsiepim.tumblr.com
> 
> DOn't be shy come say hi ;)


	8. Step By Step

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> We're slowly, but surely, reaching the end of the story... 
> 
> I hope you'll like it, things are really moving forward :)
> 
> Oh yeah NSFW and that big round table is finally set for good use. Was damn time.  
> Also, special thanks to @WalkingOlicity on Twitter for the awesome poster, loved it!!!

 

 

“Felicity… I told you. I’m fine.” Oliver sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oliver, your definition of fine isn’t exactly reassuring, you know that?” Felicity exhaled loudly, resting her hands on her hips.

“ARGUS doc gave me the thumbs up, that should tell you something.”

“Thumbs up to get back to your mayoral duties tomorrow, not Green Arrowing the streets. It’s only been two days, Oliver.”

“Almost three,” he corrected her. “I can’t just stay here and… do nothing.”

“Yes, you can and yes, you will. Three more days, Oliver. That’s all I ask. It’s not even one full week of recovery.”

Pinching his lips, Oliver glared at her, summoning his inner badass vigilante. Which would have probably worked better if he wasn’t currently half-lying on her sofa in nothing but a pair of sweatpants.

She perked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Star City needs its mayor right now. So you’re going to focus on that for the next few days. End of discussion. Now, answer me. Chicken soup or grilled cheese sandwich?”

“Can I at least have proper food?”

“You know I can’t make proper food.”

His mouth twitched, but he knew better than to contradict her. He was all for positive endorsement but he had found out, the hard way, that it didn’t work when it came to Felicity and cooking. Actually, nothing worked when it came to Felicity and cooking.

“Order, then. I’d love some pad thai.”

She cocked her head to the side then nodded. “Thai it is, then.”

He watched her quietly as she went to get the menu from their favorite Thai restaurant. He smiled, feeling utterly at peace. His shoulder was hurting like hell even if, like Felicity had dryly said, he only had himself to blame for that since he refused to take the painkillers the doctor had given him. But he was there, at the loft, with her, and everything felt right. She had flatly refused for him to spend his recovery at his place - a small apartment he was renting downtown. The place lacked any kind of comfort and he actually barely spent time there, usually sleeping at the bunker. The loft was much more comfortable.

Not to mention… there had been a lot of kissing.

When Felicity had finally calmed down, at the hospital wing, he had drifted back to sleep. She was fine, by his side and when she had stopped crying, he had let the drugs work their magic.

She was still there when had woken up the second time, curled up on the chair, holding his hand. She had smiled at him, leaned in and kissed his cheek before pouring him a glass of water.

That had been the first kiss. Well, the first kiss after that kiss when he was almost bleeding to death behind the trash container, that is.

After a quick stop in the bathroom and a small meal - a soup, like all the other meals he’d had ever since -, they had talked. Calmly. Responsively. Felicity had been clear from the get go: she wasn’t sure they would ever be able to get back where they had been before the whole fiasco with his son. But she wanted to try. She wanted to see if it was possible for them to be a couple again.

Suffice it to say he hadn’t needed much convincing. He knew it would take time, because he had royally screwed up and trust needed to be built up again. But damn… he’d never give her a reason to doubt him again. He had learned his lesson. And he knew there wouldn’t be another chance.

They were sleeping separately, Oliver staying in the guest room. It had been awkward at first, living in the same apartment but in two different rooms. After a couple of hours, he had gotten used to it.

The kissing had helped. Like… a lot.

At first it had been small pecks. Felicity had actually become quite the pecker. On his cheek, forehead, chin. Corner of his lips, even though, judging by the surprise in her eyes, this one had been by accident. Not that he had anything to do with it. He had had a spasm. Spasms happened, OK?

And it was silly he’d get so moved by a make out session. They had had sex barely two weeks ago, and quite passionate sex. With heated kisses.

But this time… it was different. It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t an itch. It wasn’t a way to work out their frustrations.

It was soft, and loving, and teasing and warm.

It was like falling in love all over again.

It was them.

They were taking their time, talking, opening up. Oliver had told her about his own fears to not be a good father, or to be undeserving to be one. His hopes to have children one day, even if he had no idea how it was possible in his situation.

In return she had told him how she wasn’t ready for kids now. There were so many things she wanted to do first, and bringing a child into this wouldn’t be fair. But she had wanted a family with him, one day. As much as he had.

Then they had kissed. And he had been on cloud nine ever since.

“Why are you looking so cheery?” Felicity suddenly asked him as she hung up the phone.

“C’me here,” he just replied as he patted the seat next to him.

“... I know that look, Oliver Jonas Queen.” She eyed him suspiciously, but still stood up.

Grinning innocently, he turned down the volume on the TV. “Me? I just want you to be sitting comfortably.”

Snorting, she made her way to him. “Sure you do.”

Nonetheless, she sat down next to him, then turned her head to face him. “Now, what?”

“I’m hurting.”

“You should take your medicine, then.”

“That’s why I called you”, he answered, wiggling his eyebrows.”You’re the best painkiller ever.”

“That’s some smooth lines you’ve got there.”

“Years of practice.”

She tried to bite back a smile but eventually gave up. “OK. But just a small one. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“It’s worth it,” he whispered as he brushed his lips against hers.

 

**_Five days later_ **

“Curtis was fast,” Oliver commented as he stared at the brand new jacket. The old one was mostly ruined, or at least damaged enough that it was time to consider a replacement. Curtis had apparently already been working on something without either of them knowing because Felicity seemed just as surprised.

The jacket was very similar to the old one, except the shoulder pads were much smaller and more supple, with long sleeves again. It was actually the perfect compromise between his first suit and the sleeveless one.

“Yeah,” Felicity nodded, chewing on her thumb nail.

“You OK?” he asked as he stepped behind her, his arms circling her waist. It was their first day back at the bunker. He had kept his promise to Felicity, had gotten back to work but waited a few more days before getting back to the Arrow business. Nights had been quiet and he had stayed with her at the loft, still checking how the SCPD was handling things, though.

But they both knew this couldn’t last. He was going to have to go back in the field at some point and he knew Felicity was nervous about it.

“I’m just… not exactly looking forward to you being out there by yourself.”

He brushed his lips against her temple, murmuring, “I’ll be careful. And you’re there. I don’t feel by myself when I have you in my ear.”

Nodding, she turned in his arms, dropping a small kiss on his lips. He was about to deepen it when she pushed back, frowning. “How is your shoulder?”

“It’s doing fine. Still a bit sore, but manageable.”

“Good. Anyway, as long as SCPD is handling things, you’re not going out, right?”

“Yup. Only in case they need an extra hand. Or bow.”

“Good.”

“You know I’ll eventually go back, though… right?”

“Yes, Oliver, I know. But I’ll feel much better when you’re 100% healed.”

“Fair enough. Now can I get a proper kiss?” he grinned, his hands hovering over her ass.

She tilted her head, obviously trying to scold him. “What if you have to leave?”

“What if I don’t? Come on, you want it too.”

“But what if you do?”

“Worst case scenario, I’ll ride my bike with a boner. I survived once, I guess I can survive twice.” He shrugged, savoring the way her cheeks turned into a light shade of red.

“... what? When?”

“Oh, you know when. Do you really think I could listen to you doing **that** and not get affected?”

She groaned, hiding her face in his chest. “Never mention it again.”

“Why?” he chuckled, his fingers stroking the small patch of skin above her jeans. “That was so hot.”

She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like shut up and he grinned, nuzzling her neck with his nose.

“I’ve been dying to know… what was I doing?”

“I’m never telling you that.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Whatever it was, it sounded pretty good. Where were we?”

She stiffened in his arms and he blinked.

“... we were here?”

“Ugh. Yes. Yes we were here. On the big table.”

_The big table, uh? I can work with the big table. Many possibilities indeed._

Felicity probably sensed what was going through his mind and it was enough to get her to raise her head and glare at him. “No.”

“But, Felicity…” he all but whined. “You’re the one who thought about it so hard you actually dreamed of it.”

Pinching her lips, she tilted her head.

_Time to change tactics._

“Was I making it good for you, at least?” he murmured, his eyes travelling to her lips.

She squirmed in his arms but didn’t try to get away from the hand that was sneaking up her shirt.

“You were moaning a lot. I know those moans. They’re the ones you make when I’m about to make you come.”

“Oliver…”

He leaned in, breathing in her ear, “I love to make you come. I love the way you pant my name. Now tell me… what was I doing? Was I using my fingers?”

She shook her head, her breathing quickening. He pressed his lips against the side of her neck, travelling to her ear.

“Your tongue,” she eventually blurted out. “You were using your tongue.”

“On the conference table?”

“Yes.”

“You were lying down, and I had my face between your legs… did I use my fingers too? I know you like it.”

“Oh God, Oliver,” she moaned, dropping her head to his shoulder. “Yes.”

He breathed her in, his nose buried in her hair, already hard at the mental pictures she was creating. Have her spread out on the table, open for his mouth…

His hand travelled down to the buttons of her jeans, opening them up slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop him.

She didn’t.

Stroking her skin with the tips of his fingers, he passed the waistband of her panties, going down until he could cup her sex, groaning when he felt her arousal. She was wet, already as turned on as he was.

His mouth ravishing her neck, causing even more beard burn, he gently stroked her folds, wedging a finger between her outer lips. She grabbed his wrist, her breathing hitching and he froze until she softly rocked her hips against him, rubbing herself on his finger.

Groaning, he let go of her, his dick getting even harder at her mewl of protestation.

“Table. Now.” He slapped her ass, pushing her forward.

They had barely made it here that he was already pushing her jeans down her thighs and she tried to help him, putting her hands on his shoulders for balance. He hissed when she pressed on his fresh wound and she stilled, her eyes wide.

“No.” She pushed him back, staring at the sore spot.

“Felicity…” he gritted his teeth. “I’m fine. Just try not to touch my shoulders, lay down, and spread your legs.”

OK, maybe he was a bit too alpha male and dominant on that one but…

Her pupils widened at his tone and he raised his eyebrows, understanding she didn’t mind his tone or words. At all.

“I won’t be able to hold still, and I won’t be able to relax if I keep thinking I’m hurting you, Oliver,” she eventually said, her voice full of regrets.

“Do you want to have sex?” he asked, his hands resting over her shoulders, staring at her. If she really didn’t want to, he’d back off. If she was mostly worried about hurting him…

_Please say yes, honey. I’m quite literally ready to beg._

Biting her lips nervously, she nodded. “Yeah, I do but-”

Hearing her say yes was enough. Not waiting for her explanation, he turned her around until she was facing the table and pushed on her back until she was bent over it.

“Oh God yes,” she let out in a strangled moan.

He smirked, his hands caressing her sides. She loved that position. He could still remember the first time they had made love that way, in a hotel room. The screams he had gotten out of her were still resonating in his head. It had also been her first multiple orgasms experience, something he was actually quite proud of. Apparently none of her previous lovers had ever managed to find her G-spot and he probably had never felt more smug in his entire life than when she had collapsed after her second climax, babbling about his magic penis and how she had never come that hard. Ever, ever - to quote her.

“Just so you know… as soon as I’m healed, we’re making love. I’m talking about good old missionary, in a bed, where I can see your eyes and kiss you.” He pushed her jeans lower, letting it bundle past her knees, giving her just enough space to spread her legs.

“Mmmhhmm,” she nodded, resting her cheek on the cold surface, both hands lying flat by her face.

Opening his jeans, he let out a sigh of relief when his cock was finally freed of its confinement. He gave it a few lazy strokes, staring at the way she was patiently waiting for him, trusting him to make her feel good.

Damn. He was about to beat his chest.

He stepped closer, pressing his hips against her ass, widening his stance until he was the perfect height. Fisting his cock firmly, he slid it against her folds, bumping against her clit, then going back down to tease her entrance. He had to grit his teeth when he felt her warmth, her wetness coating him instantly.

Felicity pushed back against him, a small whimper spilling from her lips when he rubbed the tip of his cock against the small bundle of nerves. She pushed up on her toes, trying to force him down, but he pressed on the small of her back, holding her in place as he kept on rubbing their most sensitive parts together. He squeezed his eyes shut, the pleasure already building. And he wasn’t even inside her yet.

Taking a deep breath, he eventually slid down until he could nudge her entrance then slowly pushed in, her inner walls almost sucking him inside.

Inch by inch, he thrust inside her until his hips were pressed flush against her ass, filling her to the hilt. His hands grabbed the firm globes as they both moaned in pleasure, finally reunited. Only then did he slowly slide out, his eyes lowering to where they were joined. Her juices were coating his cock, already, and he knew she would get even wetter after her climax. He locked his jaw, impatient to feel her come all over him, craving the rush of liquid heat that would make him see stars.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low and throaty.

“Yeah…” she moaned, her fists clenching.

He pushed back in more forcefully, earning a gasp out of her. He picked up the pace, his hips moving in a steady rhythm, bouncing against the soft flesh of her ass, her cries of pleasure gaining in volume.

Grabbing her hips, he shifted on his feet and pushed her butt higher, thrusting inside her until he would…

Felicity suddenly let out a high-pitched cry as he rubbed against her G-spot.

_There you go._

He knew she’d get there quickly now, and the sight of her, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut as he was working her, peaked his arousal. He could feel the fire starting, low in his spine, his thighs tensing. Each stroke of his cock was sending shivers of pleasure to his abdomen and knowing it was doing the same to her was driving him crazy with lust.

“Ooooh…” she suddenly breathed, her damp hands making a squeaky sound every time he would thrust in and push her up the table. “Oooooh yes… yes. Oliver, I’m close… I’m so close… I’m…”

The rest of her words got lost in a long unintelligible moan and he felt her walls fluttering all around him, letting him know her release was just a few thrusts away.

Gripping her hips tightly, he pushed in harder, knowing exactly what she needed to be pushed over the edge.

_One, two…_

Her head snapped up, and she bit her lips, muffling the tortured wail that was trying to escape her throat. Her inner muscles clenched down all over him and he gulped, forcing himself to keep going and fuck her through her orgasm. He knew it made it even better for her and there was nothing like making sure she’d get as much pleasure as possible until he could pause, her walls still fluttering around him, the sudden wetness bathing his cock.

She was chanting his name, the sounds echoing loudly across the room as she rode out the wave. She eventually calmed down, dropping back on the table, breathing deeply.

Oliver closed his eyes, savoring the little sparks of electricity the aftershock of her release was sending to his cock, then slowly pulled out. The other great thing about Felicity’s orgasms? She was always so tight afterwards and the first thrust was heaven on earth.

He pushed back in, groaning at the way her muscles clamped down on him, squeezing him tightly. He wasn’t going to last much longer. He thrust into her, climbing impossibly fast, his balls tightening, tension growing low in his abdomen. He could feel Felicity’s body reacting to his pace, her breathing quickening again and he recognized the signs: she was on the edge of a second climax. He tried to hold on, make sure she’d come first but suddenly, everything was too much. She was so wet and warm, her body so pliant and welcoming...

“Aaaaaaaah” he grunted as the coil of tension sprung free violently and he slammed into her one last time, pushing as deep as he could, releasing the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. He poured himself inside her, his hips jerking against her ass as he rode his orgasm out.

His climax must have triggered her release because he could hear her whimpers through the buzzing in his ears as he tried to catch his breath. He rested both hands against her sides, his head bowing as he slowly got back to earth, a bone-deep satisfaction replacing the tension in his body.

Felicity’s giggle eventually made him raise his head. “What?”

“I’ve always wanted you to bend me over the conference table.”

He huffed out a laugh, still inside her. “All you had to do was ask.”

“Come on… we were never alone here.”

“Did it live up the hype?”

“Oh yeah… twice,” she answered drowsily.

No matter how much he wanted to stay hidden inside her, he was already softening. With a sigh of regret, he delicately pulled out of her, wincing when he left her warmth. “Don’t move.”

He quickly grabbed a few tissues and cleaned her up, smirking at the way she was still lying on the table, completely boneless.

Oliver rearranged his clothes then pushed her jeans and panties back up, laughing at her clear lack of cooperation. “OK, I’m not going to lie, seeing you so weak kinda does it for my ego but I’m gonna need you to-”

“Oh my God!” A loud scream made him jump and turn around to face a very horrified Thea, mouth hanging wide open as she took in the scene in front of her.

Which totally did the trick for Felicity. In one second, she was up, then down and hiding underneath the table. He had never seen her move so fast and a part of him was actually impressed by her swift movements.

“Please tell me you guys weren’t about to… to…” Thea grimaced, her eyes covered.

“I promise you… no. We weren’t.” We just have, it’s different. “Also you can open your eyes, you know.”

“I managed to catch an early flight. I got Felicity’s texts about you getting hurt but apparently you weren’t that hurt.” His sister snickered, crossing her arms on her chest.

“You know me. I heal fast.”

“Felicity, you do know that I actually saw you get under that table, right?”

A small whimper was all that could be heard from underneath the table and Oliver had to bite the inside of his cheek. He shared a look with Thea who just rolled her eyes and mouthed, “Big Belly Burger, fifteen minutes.”

Nodding, he watched her leave, then slowly crouched down. Felicity was holding her legs against her chest, biting on her lips, eyes wide. And she was as red as a lobster.

“She’s gone.”

She scrambled to her feet, accepting his hand to help her stand up but she chose to fall on a chair instead. “She saw us. Oliver. She totally saw us.”

“No, she didn’t. Not really.”

“She saw me butt naked on the conference table!”

Leaning against the table, he rectified, “technically, I had already covered your butt. She only saw you bent over the conference table.”

“Oh that makes it so much better,” she snorted, throwing him a dirty look. “Is she downstairs?”

“No. She’s waiting for us at Big Belly Burger.”

“I… I don’t think I can have a burger with your sister right now.”

“Then have a hot dog.” His mouth twitched as he tried to keep his smile at bay. There was something so incredibly funny to have Felicity so embarrassed, especially since Thea hadn’t been able to see anything remotely compromising.

She glared at him and he couldn’t resist. Quickly leaning down, he pressed a peck on her nose.

“Come on. I promise you it’s not that bad. I once interrupted her with a boy in her room, shirtless. And if she says anything about us right now, I won’t hesitate to use it.”

“... Promise me?”

“I promise.” He winked then straightened up. “So… can we go now? I haven’t seen my sister in over a month.”

To say that Oliver was high as a kite as they made their way to the restaurant was putting it mildly. It was within walking distance from the bunker, and during the ten minutes it took them to get there, he never let go of her hand. She excused herself as soon as they arrived to stop by the bathroom, and he knew it was just an excuse to avoid facing Thea as long as possible. Still, he let her go, shaking his head, unable to keep the smile off his face as he sat down opposite his sister in a booth.

“Well…” Thea greeted him with raised eyebrows. “I see there has been some… development.”

“Yeah… we’re just taking it really slow, so please… don’t talk about it. We’re figuring it out and I don’t want any kind of pressure. Don’t talk about engagement or dating or... or anything involving the conference table.”

“Jeez. Thanks for the vote of confidence. And believe me I’d rather we never talked about what I saw on that table ever again.” She shuddered, picking up her glass of water. “But things are good, right? It’s not just a… friends with benefits kind of thing?”

He shook his head, smiling softly once he saw Felicity heading their way. “No, it’s not like that. And yeah, things are really good.”

Felicity finally joined them and, despite the initial awkwardness - mostly from Felicity’s side -, they spent a nice evening, Thea sharing about her hike in the Yosemite Valley with Roy.

Sometime during the meal, his hand automatically reached for Felicity’s thigh. He never even realized he had done it until her own hand covered his. They both shared a look and a small smile, the world vanishing for one precious second.

Oliver fought back the urge to lean in and kiss her like he was dying to - not so much for Thea’s sake, but mostly for Felicity’s who was just starting to relax. Instead, he picked up their joined hand and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles, smiling when she started to blush furiously.

They were going to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... did you like it? ;)  
> Find me on twitter @PimsiePim or tumblr pimsiepim.tumblr.com  
> Don't be shy, come say hi!


	9. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> This is the last chapter of the Bunker UST :) There will be an epilogue that I will post in a few days, though.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, special thanks to Pidanka and the Trash Squad ;)  
> Xoxo

Felicity bit her lips nervously when she saw Oliver zipping his suit. It wasn’t the first time he had to go in the field ever since that fateful night, but every single time had been nerve-wracking for her. She was still there at the comms, and even if Thea was slowly but surely getting involved again, she still didn’t feel as comfortable as she used to.

It had been a close call and the memory was still so fresh, she could still see the way his blood had soaked his jacket. She had almost lost him and it wasn’t easy to let go of that fear.

She nonetheless put a brave smile on her face when he leaned in to kiss her goodbye.

Stroking her cheek, he murmured, “I’ll be fine. Thea will be with me.”

Nodding, she watched him walk to the garage, where Thea was waiting for him. Taking a deep breath, she eventually turned around to face her computer screens. This was how she could help him. Be his eyes and ears.

All they had to do that night was to interrupt a drug deal by the docks. A few arrows were shot, the bad guys ran away and everyone came back in one piece. Yet, it was only when she heard the echoes of their bikes that Felicity finally managed to relax.

Thea grinned at her on her way to the bathroom and Felicity waved back, relieved to see the happiness back on her face. The last months had been tough on her, Laurel dying, then Alex… Those few weeks she had spent with Roy had really helped her find some kind of peace of mind. Thea was now back to the vigilante business, but this time it wasn’t because of the thrill. It was because she needed to do something right in her life, to help people. Oliver hadn’t let her jump right back in, though. She had first gone with him on patrol, just to see if she still could handle it. Little by little, she had grew more assured, until two nights ago when she had taken down a guy trying to assault a young woman. Thea was now much more balanced, and beating up bad guys was no long a way for her to blow off some steam or prove her worth. She had matured.

Felicity jumped on her feet when Oliver finally walked inside, her legs carrying her to him almost automatically. Her eyes roamed his body, checking he had no injury.

Sighing, Oliver took off his mask, staying still, probably knowing she would only feel better once she’d have made sure he was fine. She was ridiculous, and she knew it, but she couldn’t help it. It was like her brain refused to really let go of her irrational fear, and needed visual confirmation.

“Not even a scratch,” he whispered as she cradled his face. She smiled, reaching on her toes to kiss him on the lips. A short, chaste kiss. She still hadn’t forgotten that night where Thea had found her bent over the conference table and wasn’t about to take any chance.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m borderline cray cray… Cupid kind of cray cray, actually. I just… I can’t help it.”

“You’re talking to the guy who had nightmares just thinking of riding in the back of a car with you for months. I’m not judging.”

“Well… we replaced that bad memory with something good, didn’t we?” she winked at him, playing with the strap of his quiver.

He huffed out a laugh, his darkening eyes letting her know he was remembering quite vividly their little quickie in the back of the limo that had taken them to a gala the week before.

“Oh yes, we did,” Oliver smirked, his hands hovering over her ass.

She wiggled out of his embrace, scolding him. “Your sister is here.”

“Seeing your pants are still buttoned up, I think we’re making progress.”

“Haha, very funny.”

With one last warning look, she stepped away from him and went back to her computers, ready to set her usual night searches.

“I can’t wait to have a long, hot shower,” she sighed as she grabbed her purse. The day had been quite long, with a few meetings with her lawyers concerning PT, as well as a surprising lunch with a shareholder who had offered his support in case she would be in a position to take the leadership again. Suffice it to say, it had left her with a lot to think about. That combined with Oliver going back in the field again… she needed to relax.

“Do you mind if Thea drives you home? I forgot a file at the city hall that I’d like to check?” Oliver asked as he got rid of his bow and quiver.

“Oh, no. But I can go with you if you want to?”

“No. Go home, take your shower and I’ll stop by the store to get you ice-cream, how does that sound?”

“Mmmmhh… that is an offer I can’t resist,” she breathed as she approached him, her eyes dropping to his lips.

_ Ice-cream and Oliver… tonight is going to be fun. _

“Ready to go if you are too, Felicity,” Thea interrupted them. “And please let’s not reenact the conference table scene, OK?”

Blushing furiously, Felicity stepped back.

Oliver rolled his eyes and gripped her waist, pressing her flush against him. She didn’t even have the time to protest that his mouth was on hers, silencing her. His kiss lasted barely a second, but it was probably enough to prove his point.

He winked at her before turning to his sister. “I’ve seen things much more inappropriate from you, don’t make me reenact them, Speedy.”   
  


 

The drive to the loft took about twenty minutes, Thea reassuring Felicity concerning Oliver in the field. He was being careful, and they always had each other’s back. Felicity knew how important it was to Oliver to be out there, and she would never ask him not to go. But she still could see him, lying, his suit covered in his blood, and was unable to get past it. Hadn’t she been there, at the comms, hadn’t she stayed with him when everybody else had left…

She was still thinking about it when she stepped inside her shower, her hair bundled up in a messy bun on the top of her head. So many things had happened in the last few weeks. Palmer Tech’s board was divided, some supporting her, others still cheering for their interim CEO. Thea was back in the team.

And she and Oliver were… she didn’t know exactly. They were dating, that was for sure. But he had gone back to his apartment. They had both decided that once he was feeling better, they should put some distance between them. Even though Oliver still spent most of his nights at the loft, living under the same roof wasn’t the right solution, not when they were just starting to rekindling things. It was good for each of them to still have their own place, and no pressure concerning their relationship.

Trust was a fragile thing, one that needed time to build. Especially when it had been broken before. But Felicity was optimistic. They were on the right path.

As she was slipping on her nightie, a small, red satin thing she might have bought on impulse a few days ago, she grinned, already picturing Oliver’s eyes when he’d see her in it. She usually wasn’t really into lingerie, apart from the usual bra+panties sets. Nighties, babydolls, garter belts… those were for very, very special occasions.

Or when she wanted to tease the hell out of him.

Realizing she had forgotten her purse and tablet in the living room, she quickly made her way downstairs, her eyes adjusting to the dark room. She had switched off all the lights before going upstairs, knowing Oliver didn’t need them anyway. He still wasn’t back, but she wasn’t worried. Between changing, driving to the city hall then to the loft, she knew he probably wouldn’t be there before another ten or fifteen minutes.

She was just checking her cell phone when she saw, from the corner of her eyes, a shadow moving on the other side of the living room. Her heart skipped a beat, her breathing hitching, then, forcing herself to stay calm, she took her purse, her fingers already finding the taser she always carried around.

She didn’t even have the time to turn around that a hand was suddenly covering her mouth, silencing her scream. Her heart beating wildly, she froze for a quarter of a second.

“It’s me,” a low, deep voice murmured in her ear, her entire body relaxing instantly.

As soon as he felt her body going lax, Oliver let her go and she turned around, furious. “What the-”

She paused when she saw that Oliver was still in his Green Arrow suit. Mask on, hood on. The only things missing were his bow and quiver.

He was impossibly close and despite the darkness, she could make out the lines of his jaw, his full lips. He was breathing slowly, quietly, his eyes fixed on her. She saw them travelling from her cleavage to her hips, then all the way down to her bare legs. He licked his lips, his hand reaching for the hem of her nightie and her breath caught in her throat when she felt his gloved hand sliding across her skin. It felt different, smoother, and it wasn’t skin on skin so she was surprised by her reaction.

More. She wanted more.

Her hand reached out, grazing the stubble on his jaw, her fingers trailing his lips, then down his throat, until it could circle his neck underneath the hood. Forcing his head down, she pushed up on her toes, until she could press her lips against his. It was apparently all the encouragement Oliver needed because as soon as she did, his arm circled her waist, pressing her against him until her breasts were squeezed against his jacket, the softness of the satin offering a stark contrast with the hardness of the leather.

Oliver’s hand glided down to her ass, and she moaned in his mouth when he kneaded the flesh firmly. Suckling on his tongue, she scratched the back of his neck, little whimpers escaping her lips when his fingers stroked the naked skin just under the line of her panties.

He suddenly lifted her up and she circled his hips with her legs, her ankles locking in his back. She didn’t even realize they were moving until her back was pressed against a hard, slick, surface. She hissed, a shudder running down her spine as the cold pierced the thin material of her nightie, Oliver’s mouth leaving hers and ravishing the soft skin of her neck. He pressed his hips between her open thighs, pushing his erection against her sex. Felicity tilted her head back against the pillar, rolling her hips, seeking friction. There was already a wave of pleasure forming low in her abdomen, and everything around her was a turn on. The dark room, with the big windows that let the moonlight in, the rough material of Oliver’s suit against her skin, the smell of leather.

Oliver raised his head after leaving one last kiss on her throat, and both her hands slipped underneath the hood, slowly pushing it back.

“Upstairs?” he murmured as she softly caressed the lobes of his ears.

“Yes.”

His hands holding her firmly, he walked across the room, then to the stairs. She nestled her head in the crook of his neck as he carried her to their bedroom, pressing little kisses everywhere she could reach. He was surprisingly delicate when he put her down on the bed, his body never leaving hers. She welcomed his weight, her mouth already searching for his. His feet were still resting on the floor, and her legs would have been dangling out of bed if she hadn’t them around his waist.

Their tongues were dancing with each other, Oliver’s hand sliding up her thigh, his thumb tracing circles on the soft flesh. It wasn’t the same with the glove on, but damn it… it was hot. His gloves, his suit, were used to conceal his identity, to roam the streets, to fight, but right now… right now it was just the two of them, making love. And there was no hiding.

Oliver was rubbing his length against her folds, letting her appreciate how hard he was despite the thick leather between them. He softly bit her lower lip, pulling on it, then let go, his mouth travelling down her throat. His nose pushed her nightie away until her nipple was exposed and his tongue flicked it, before closing his mouth on it. Pulling on his hair, she pressed his face closer to her chest, her eyes shutting down as the pleasure started to build. Her hips were rolling against him, her thighs cradling him as close as she could.

He softly bit on the hard little bud, before soothing the ache with the flat of his tongue. His breath against her damp skin made her shiver, her arousal peaking.

Scrambling, she tried to open the jacket of his suit. As much as she loved the feeling of the firm, stiff leather against her heated skin, she also needed to touch him, touch the strong muscles that belonged to her, as much as her body belonged to him. The Green Arrow was a symbol for the city but the man under the suit was hers, and hers alone.

“Oliver…” she panted, her fingers slipping on the slick material.

He kneeled up suddenly, and she followed, getting rid of her nightie in the movement. She could now focus on the zipper of his jacket and finally managed to lower it, opening it completely until his black shirt appeared, along with the suspenders. Biting her lips, she gripped them tightly, already lying back on the bed.

Oliver huffed out a laugh, trying to take off his mask, but she stopped him. “Leave it on.”

She saw the way he paused, his eyes fixing hers, but the darkness made it hard for her to decipher his expression. Although, the way his lips crashed against hers a second later told her that he clearly didn’t mind indulging her one little fantasy.

Her fists were still firmly holding onto his suspenders and she only let them go to travel down his chest, feeling the hard muscles playing underneath the soft fabric. Oliver was kissing her madly, almost desperately, rocking his hips against her with renewed strength.

She finally reached the waistband of his pants and after a bit of a struggle, managed to lower the zipper a quarter of an inch. Oliver was pressed so tightly against her that she couldn’t get any lower and she tried to escape from his mouth but he didn’t let her. His lips chasing hers, she let herself get carried away by the way his tongue was caressing hers, their breaths mingling. When he rolled his hips in circles, he brushed directly against her clit and the flash of electricity it brought down to her core made her gasp, their lips finally parting.

“Oliver, your pants, I can’t…”

Pushing up on his arms, he knelt up again, his fingers swiftly opening his pants and lowering his underwear, just low enough for his cock to spring free. He was about to take off his gloves when she stopped him again, her hands reaching out and stroking the hard flesh for him instead. He was so firm, so hot in her palms, and she could see how the head was engorged, a small bead of pleasure already escaping. He rested his hands on her thighs, watching her as she pleasured him with her fingers. His thumbs were caressing the tender skin at the apex of her thighs, inches away from her sex, but still avoiding it. She was still wearing her panties, a small triangle of satin, matching the nightie that was now lying on the floor. Sliding up his hands, Oliver let his thumbs caress her outer lips through the delicate fabric and she whined, biting her lips. She was wet, and each stroke of his fingers made her more aroused, dampening the fabric of her underwear. The feeling of his fingers, covered by his gloves, against the hyper sensitive skin of her sex was making her see stars. He pushed her panties to the side and wedged his middle finger between her inner lips, pressing softly on her clitoris, making her moan, her own hand working him harder.

She could hear his breathing getting ragged, as short as hers, until he suddenly seemed to not be able to take it anymore. Pushing her hands away, he shifted on his knees, grabbing her hips and bringing her closer to him, her thighs now resting directly on his. Taking a hold of his cock, he pushed the swollen head against her clitoris, rubbing small circles around it and she whined, a long, strangled sound that echoed loudly in the room. There was a heat taking over her lower belly, her core empty and aching for him.

She let her eyes travel to his body, the way his jacket was hanging on his sides, the hood down, the mask still on, his leathered hands contrasting the paleness of their skins…

She murmured his name and a second later, he was pushing at her entrance, filling her with one stroke until he was buried deep inside her body. It felt like every muscle welcomed him, clamping down on him, massaging his hard flesh and he sighed, his head dropping as soon as he bottomed out.

He moved his hands up, letting them rest flat on her sides, his hips already starting to move. Their gazes locked as their bodies welcomed each other, finding their own rhythm. With every thrust, Oliver was pressing his pelvic bone directly on her clitoris and she knew she wouldn’t need long at all. The wave was already growing, the tension tightening in her abdomen.

There was something so arousing about the fact that Oliver was wearing his suit, as if she was having every side of the man himself. Dozens, hundreds of people had seen him as the Green Arrow, fought him or helped him. But only one woman had ever made love with him. She was the only one who knew exactly how it felt to have the soft leather of his pants rubbing against the naked skin of her inner thighs as he thrust inside her. His mask, that hid his identity to everyone, wasn’t enough to hide the pleasure he was finding in her body. The gloves on his hands were brushing her sides, making her shiver with need, not fear.

He was her man. She was his woman.

And he was loving her with his body, pleasuring her in every way he could, every touch, every stroke sending her higher. She was panting, riding the wave, moans spilling from her lips, high-pitched cries resonating in her ears whenever he would brush that special spot inside her.

She grabbed his waist, her nails digging into his side as he started a punishing rhythm, his hips snapping, shaking the bed with his thrusts. Her other hand was clenching the comforter by her head, the fabric completely bundled in her tight fist. The frame of the bed was protesting loudly, the creaking sounds almost covering Oliver’s groans as he sped up the pace. He was getting closer, she could see it in the way his jaw was locked, in the tension in his stomach. Suddenly, he leant over her, a hand now resting beside her head, the other gripping her knee and pushing it up her chest, opening her up even more.

He went deeper, and the firm grip he had on her knee turned her on violently. Her eyes travelled to his hand, the way he was almost desperately holding her leg up and she gulped, biting her lips and trying to muffle her moans of pleasure.

“Oh God… oh God…” she chanted, grabbing the comforter with both hands, trying to anchor herself as she got closer to her relief.

“Felicity, honey… touch yourself,” Oliver grunted above her. “I’m going to come.”

She shook her head violently, her eyes squeezing shut. She was so close she could almost taste it, her inner muscles already fluttering around his length. His pleasure would trigger hers, and her hands were refusing to move anyway, her entire body stiffening as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.

She didn’t need much, a few hard strokes and she would tumble head first into what was probably going to be a massive orgasm judging by the way her body was starting to tremble.

Oliver moaned miserably as he nestled his face in the crook of her neck, losing any kind of rhythm. She could feel his lips pressing against her shoulder, his hot breath grazing her skin, the grunts in her ear as his own release was building.

The heat in her core was burning, the coil of tension impossibly tight as he gave one final thrust, a loud groan escaping him when he came inside her.

The sudden warmth of his pleasure was enough to send her over the edge, the tension releasing almost violently, spreading through her lower belly. She gasped, unable to hold back a long, strangled wail as her back arched, pressing her breasts to his chest. Her walls clamped down on him, milking him, her orgasm crashing through her, leaving her breathless.

Oliver’s hips were still jostling, his cock jerking deep inside her as he finished riding his own wave, a few low, masculine moans spilling from his lips. He eventually collapsed on her, his hand releasing her thigh and catching most of his weight just in time.

Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, she hummed quietly, savoring the way her body was relaxing, basking in the after-glow.

There really was nothing like an Oliver-induced orgasm.

Although, apparently, Green Arrow-induced orgasms were just as good.

Oliver eventually rolled onto his side, taking her with him until he was lying flat on his back, his hand stroking her hair. Her cheek was pressed against the leather of his jacket, and she knew she’d have to move shortly because his zipper was already digging into her stomach.

“How did you know?” she asked when finally caught her breath.

“How did I know what?” Oliver frowned, shifting his head until he could look at her.

“That I might have had a little fantasy about your suit.”

He huffed out a laugh, then pressed a kiss on her forehead. “I didn’t know. But I sure as hell won’t forget.”

She raised her head, furrowing her eyebrows. “But then… why did you show up as the Green Arrow? Did something happen?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. I just… I thought about what you said… replacing bad memories with good ones.”

Felicity blinked, her mouth falling open. “Oh. Ooooh. You mean I’d stop seeing your suit as a danger but more as a… orgasm vending machine?”

“Something like that,” Oliver snorted, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Did it work?”

“Well, the orgasm part worked really well, that’s for sure.”

“Still a close call, though,” Oliver winced.

She rolled her eyes. “As if you’ve ever left me unsatisfied.”

He pinched her butt, making her yelp, before sitting up. Ruffling his hair, he got rid of his mask and threw her a cheeky glance. “I’m going to shower… wanna come with me?”

She had already showered but seeing their previous activities, another one probably wouldn’t hurt. Nodding, she sat up as well, taking the hand he was offering to help her on her feet.

Getting rid of her panties, she padded after him, blinking when he switched on the light in the bathroom.

He was getting rid of his jacket when she suddenly burst out laughing.

“What?”

“I think your plan worked just fine. I probably won’t think about blood on your jacket the next time you go out in the field,” she explained, her eyes pointing to the mess on the front of his pants.

He glanced down, then groaned and grabbed a few tissues, trying to clean up the leather. He did a decent job, with only a few traces still lingering.

“If people don’t stare at your crotch too closely, they won’t notice.”

Oliver glared at her, throwing the tissues in the bin. “I’ll have to clean it at the bunker.”

“Hey don’t go all grumpy on me. It was  **your** idea.”

Leaning down, he quickly kissed the tip of her nose. “I know. By the way, I didn’t have the time to tell you but I really liked that red little thing you were wearing…”

“Oh that old thing? Good to know,” she winked, walking past him to get the water running.

“Next time, I’d really like to see it with the lights on, though…” he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

“That can be arranged…”

  
  
  


**_Two months later_ **

 

“Oh no, Dig. You don’t want to go down there.”

Dig stopped, his hand on the rail of the stairs. “What? I’m just going to… oh God. Again?!”

“Yup,” Thea nodded, munching on a carrot. “To be fair, we’re here earlier than usual.”

“... tell me they don’t do that every night.”

“I wouldn’t know. But I’ve seen things… that I should have never seen, several times since I came back.” Thea shuddered, then stared at her carrot, a small grimace of disgust growing on her face. She threw the poor vegetable in the garbage bin, gagging.

“Do I want to know?”

“No. Believe me… you don’t,” Lyla said, her eyes fixed on her laptop.

“Maybe we should tell them that we know they’re back together.”

“Well, I’m positive Oliver knows that we know. It’s Felicity who thinks they’re being very discreet,” Curtis added as he joined them. He took off his jacket, draping it over a chair. “Which could work if I hadn’t caught them red-handed in her office yesterday.”

“Her office too?!” Dig groaned, hiding his eyes. He had been back from the army about six weeks earlier, due to a small injury. He had noticed right away a shift in Oliver and Felicity’s relationship, but the two of them had tried to brush it off.

“Yup. And his…” Thea sighed. “They weren’t like that the first time, were they?”

“The whole secret thing spices it up, I guess,” Lyla explained as she shut down her laptop.

“This can’t go on, though. Someone has to talk to them.”

“You’re only saying that because your bet was that they’d go public by the end of this week.” Curtis snorted, crossing his arms.

“And because we’re running out of sanitizers,” Dig glared at him.

The sound of steps going up the stairs interrupted them and a disheveled Felicity appeared, a huge grin on her face that trembled once she saw everyone was there.

“Oh. Hi guys! You’re early. Oliver was working me up… I mean out… I mean I was working out with Oliver,” she rambled, blushing furiously.

Dig stared at her while she sheepishly went to her station, sitting down on her chair. He glanced at the rest of the team, and they all avoided his eyes.

Sighing, he threw his arms up. “OK, Felicity, we know.”

“... what?” Felicity asked, her shoulders stiffening, her back still facing him. “What do you know, Dig?”

“We  **know** . You and Oliver.”

“What about Felicity and me?” Oliver asked, as he joined them, slipping on a t-shirt.

“We know you two are back together,” Dig explained, crossing his arms. “So no more need to hide it and please, for the love of God, no more sex in the bunker.”

“Damn it!” Felicity shouted, banging her hands on the table.

Oliver smirked, then patted Dig on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Wait… what?” Thea asked. “That’s all? What… why are you even thanking him?!”

“We had a bet. Felicity was sure you’d be the one cornering us. I knew it’d be Dig.”

“You mean… you… you did all this on purpose?” Curtis asked, gaping.

“Yes,” Felicity groaned. “Damn it Thea, you saw us more than two months ago!”

“But… but… Oliver told me not to say anything because no pressure and… and… you guys played us?!”

“You were taking forever!” Felicity huffed out. “It’s not like I really had a choice!”

“You mean that time where Oliver was on the salmon ladder and you… you were...”

“I saw you arriving on the security camera. Why do you think Oliver looked so surprised?.”

“But… I threw my carrot! I threw my carrot because of you!” Thea cried out.

“And I lost my bet because of you!”

“You mean when I caught you guys at the office…” Curtis trailed off.

Felicity blushed, her eyes lowering to her feet. “No, that one was real.”

“Oh, OK. And that time in the van?”

Oliver coughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“... your office, Ollie?”

“Well… his desk is the perfect height for-”

“Ewwww! Felicity!”

“Oh God. I’m gonna throw up.”

Dig took a deep sigh, trying really hard to erase Felicity’s words from his mind. “Anyway. At least now we can go back to our normal lives. And for the record, I’m happy for you.”

Felicity smiled at him shyly, while Oliver nodded.

“Wait… how much did you win, Ollie?”

“We… we didn’t bet money, Speedy.”

“That’s it, I’m out of here,” Dig said, picking up his jacket. There were things he really didn’t need to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... it felt right to have Dig showing up at least for a small scene ;)
> 
> Even though he probably would have prefered to be back in the army rather than hear all those things...
> 
> ;)


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> Here is the epilogue for this story :)  
> I did struggle a LOT with it... I'll explain why in my end of chapter notes as not to spoil anything ;)

“Let’s get married.”

Oliver froze, his hands still in the sink. They just had dinner and were cleaning the kitchen when Felicity dropped the bomb.

“... what?” he eventually asked, thinking he must have misheard.

“Let’s get married,” Felicity repeated as she closed the refrigerator. “We’ve been back together for two years, now. We’ve been living together for a year and a half. And… and I feel like now is the right time.”

“Are you sure?” Oliver asked her, frowning. Ever since they had been back together, they had never really mentioned the word marriage. At first, it was mostly a way to start with no pressure, no expectation. Then, they had slowly but surely found their balance and even though marriage was still very much in his mind, he also knew that this time around… it was up to Felicity to propose. But the months had gone by, she hadn’t and he eventually had made peace with the fact that maybe they would never take that step.

“I was kinda expecting another reaction,” she huffed out a laugh, hopping on the counter.

“I’m just… I honestly thought you’d never want to get married.”

Oliver grabbed a towel, wiping his hands. This was not the kind of discussion they should have while doing the dishes.

“... I didn’t feel the need. Things were going well, and following their natural course. I feel like… I’m ready. Are you?”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “I’ve been ready forever, Felicity, you know that. I’m just concerned that… you’re asking because…” he trailed off, biting his lips.

“Because of mini-Queen?” she asked, her smile fading from her face.

“... yes.”

“I am, you know. In a way. But not for the reason you think.”

Oliver felt the familiar pinch in his heart as he remembered the baby they would never have. Felicity had found out she was pregnant eight months ago. An unplanned pregnancy that had still made them blissfully happy. During five weeks, they had kept the news to themselves, treasuring their little secret. Oliver had spent entire evenings stroking and kissing her stomach, Felicity reading everything she could find about pregnancies and babies. He had made her healthy meals, had gotten rid of the coffee - for the both of them.

The idea of starting a family with her had filled him with a joy he had never felt before. At this point, marriage had been back in his mind with a vengeance. They were about to become three, surely this would be the right time to make things official? But he had still kept quiet, knowing that one big change was probably already enough to deal with. Felicity was happy, and it was all that mattered to him.

Until just a few days short of hitting the fateful third month. She had called him from work, her voice shaking, and before she had had the time to say a single word, he had understood. He had met her at the hospital where the doctors had confirmed what he already knew. A miscarriage.

He had willed himself to be strong for her, but he had crumbled as soon as the doctor had left them alone. They had both cried, holding onto each other, and despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to be strong. That loss had been so unfair, so cruel, and Felicity had struggled for weeks to come to terms with it. They had both decided to not try for another child. Mini-Queen had been unexpected, after all, and despite the utter happiness he had brought them during those few weeks, they knew it probably wasn’t the best of time for them.

Felicity had pushed Oliver away the first week. It was only after ten days that they had had a fight, probably the biggest they ever had. William had been brought up. Felicity had lashed out until she had finally blurted out what had hurt her the most.

She hadn’t been able to carry his child. She had failed where Samantha had succeeded.

Felicity had cried herself to sleep that night, just like all the other ones since she had miscarried. But at least, she had let Oliver hold her this time. He had whispered until she fell asleep, how sorry he was for everything, how their baby was irreplaceable and how he’d never seen himself starting a family with anybody else. How much he loved her, and their baby, even if he was already gone.

Things had gotten better after that night. Felicity had slowly grown back to her old self, accepting their loss. He had feared for them at first, knowing this could be the one thing that would eventually push them apart. But it had made them stronger.

“... I will always feel like something is missing, in a way. I know now that it probably wasn’t the right time and… I know what the doctors said that he wouldn’t have… he wouldn’t have survived anyway. But I dreamed him so much that he still feels real, you know?”

“I know. It’s the same for me,” Oliver nodded, taking her hand between his.

“But… you were there. I wouldn’t have been able to get past it the way I did if it hadn’t been for you. And despite how much it hurt, I still wouldn’t want to do it with anybody else. I want to have a family with you, Oliver. One day, I hope we can try and have beautiful, healthy children. And I know this is probably the least romantic proposal ever, but it’s how I feel. I don’t want to marry you because of some… unrealistic vision I have of our future, but because I’ve seen what’s the worst that could happen and I still want it. Because if it’s with you, I know I can survive anything.”

Oliver smiled, stepping between her legs. “I think it’s a pretty solid proposal, actually.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” He leaned in, his lips brushing hers when she pulled away.

“Wait. Did you say yes to the proposal?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Yes. I said yes to the proposal. Let’s get married.” He tried to kiss her again but she pulled away once more.

Sighing, he glared at her. “Now what? I’d like to kiss my fiancée.”

“My ring? Duh!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Oliver dropped his head against her shoulder, chuckling. “My bad. Don’t move.”

He pecked her lips then rushed upstairs, only stopping when he stepped in front of his cabinet. Opening the last drawer, he quickly found what he was looking for, a small black box. He was back in the kitchen in an instant, clutching the small box firmly in his hand.

Felicity giggled when she saw him fidgeting. “Oliver, I already know what the ring looks like, there’s no need to be nervous.”

He rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped back between her legs. “I have to admit I don’t know what’s the decorum in this kind of situation. I’m the one with the ring but technically, you’re the one who proposed.”

“Well… let’s make up our own rules. You open the box and you put the ring on my finger, then I get to kiss you.”

“Deal,” he grinned, slowly opening the box. Keeping his eyes on her, he saw the surprise on her face, as well as confusion.

“It’s… it’s not the same one.”

“No. I bought this one a few months ago,” he quietly explained. He had quite never forgotten what Felicity had told him when she had given him back her engagement ring. He knew that if they’d get married again, he would have to get her another one. It was a way to show that they were choosing another way, another path, another start. And he wanted to prove to her that he respected her wish. Six months ago, he had walked by a jewelry shop and, for some reason, had felt the urge to look at the rings. One had caught his eye right away. It was, in a way, similar to his mother’s. After all, he had loved Moira’s ring on Felicity’s finger, and she had too. But it was smaller. A square, rather than a rectangle, elegant, delicate.

“... why?” she asked in a small voice and he gulped, fearing she might not like it.

“I still have the other one, if you want to. I know this one isn’t as big, but I wanted… I wanted something new.”

“I meant… why did you buy a new one? Were you planning to propose?”

“No. God knows I’ve wanted to about a hundred times but… I knew this was your call to make. I was just really hoping you’d do it and-”

She cut him off, cradling his face. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

His hands were shaking when he took the ring out of its box and slid it on her finger. He paused, his thumb stroking her knuckles and, raising his eyes, smiled at her.

She grinned back, biting her lower lip, then leaned in and, as she had promised, kissed him. 

  
  


They got married the next month, in a small private ceremony with their closest family and friends. They waited another two years before starting a family. Once the city was safe enough, that the Green Arrow wasn’t needed as much, that the mayoral duties were finally resembling normal mayoral duties and Palmer Tech had been transformed into Queen Inc, a thrilling multinational company… they decided it was time.

Their daughter was born just before Christmas, perfectly healthy and, according to Oliver, perfectly perfect.

 

**The End.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, they finally got their happy ending :)
> 
> Now, why did I do that? The miscarriage? When I was writing the ending, I knew I wanted a HEA and a marriage/proposal. But... and here is the but... this is a canon story and... IMO the damage done to olicity in season 4 runs very, very deep. I've said it before and I'll say it again and scream it over rooftops: these two were on the edge of getting married. They had committed, they had had several proposals, they had speeches of love and devotion. Yet... in the ends, all those beautiful words ended up empty. Felicity didn't fight through the hard times, Oliver still lied to her. I honestly couldn't write a proposal, a "normal" proposal. Because it clearly doesn't mean much. "You're the love of my life, I want to spend the rest of my life with you... until you screw up and then I leave or until I'm faced with a tough choice and acts like a stupid jerk". SO yeah... the only way, to me, that I could write something I actually believed in was if Oliver and Felicity (mostly Felicity though because to me she's the one who broke up and asked O to not propose again, so I hope he respects her wish and she gets to do it eventually) also got rid of the "fluffy" expectations of marriage. 
> 
> In the end, Felicity doesn't want to marry Oliver because hearts and flowers and rainbows and unicorns. She wants to marry him because when shit hits the fan he is the one she wants by her side. And I do not think there is something harder to take than a miscarriage (... the death of a child, obviously but I really didn't want to go that way, it's too dark) as a couple, as a woman who wants that child so very much. Especially in Felicity's situation where Oliver already has a child with a woman he had a one-night stand with. It must be hard, and tough and could be a good reason to break things up for good. But they grew, they got stronger and it only solidifed their relationship.
> 
> So... long story short... that was the only way I could see a proposal/marriage that makes sense for them, after the trauma of season 4.


End file.
